For a while I measured my political age in presidents. If I go by that reckoning, instead of by years, I think I'm the longest lasting Coordinator in Gallifreyan history.

[It's a useless sort of comment. It's Narvin's way of trying to be supportive and empathetic without actually saying or appearing so.]

Seems a bit abysmally cursed, doesn't it?

[He appreciates it. He never deals well with people going missing. "What? No. They were never here. Except they were and that's for me and not for you and only for me."]

It certainly made for interesting politics. For a while it seemed like the Agency policies were changing every week just to keep up with the constantly shifting administrations.

I believe I missed a few administrations here and there.

I believe we agreed to a drink but I don't recall seeing it through.

Some of them are easy to miss. Your brother's was during your next incarnation, but lasted only about the length of time it takes to sneeze. [Even when Brax isn't around Narvin has to snark at him.]

I believe you're right about the drinks. In the pub or in one of our TARDISes? [Narvin's just taking shameless opportunity to say the phrase "one of our TARDISes." Because he can say that now.]

How old are you in people?

Five past Mel. Ten past Sarah Jane. Give or take a few comers and goers. Enemies is an entirely different matter.

[There's a muffled sound of him putting his chin in his hands and sighing. He's a big baby when he worries about people.]

It must be hard when you live hundreds of years.

[Sob Tim knows the feeling. :c] I'm sure he'll be back. His room's the same.

That's what I'm hoping. He's a troubled young man, but he has too much potential to lose it now.

...

[A long silence and then the sharp click of disconnection, because how do emotional comfort, non-dad?]

[Nothing said, but a "What was that?" look happens.]

You doing okay?

Just that typical concern a warden has for his inmate I suppose.

[No, he likes him more than if he were an inmate.] He's a good boy. Sometimes I hate that he's here.

I'm sure it'll be fine, Doctor.

And that's hardly an accurate way to measure age. [A disapproving click with the tongue.] You're a Time Lord, you should know better. ...Saying "I'm a billion years old" sounds a lot more impressive than "I'm... ten people old", too.

{OOC: He left a "How are you?" message for Seven on his last post, though we can assume that if you want.}

Does it?

You know there are frequently more than a billion people on a world. Milling about, each with their own individual life and their own story. Is sounding impressive more important than remarking on their value?

Of course.

But they don't have a value to me, do they? Unless that world is Gallifrey. And even so, we are Time Lords, measuring our age using time is a lot more sensible.

So that young man that left, that lost his best friend, that felt insurmountable guilt in protecting him. He's worthless to you? The idea of him being rejected by his parents, doing his best to take care of himself in a difficult world?

It doesn't matter. It doesn't relate directly to you. Why should it? [He's sounding increasingly peeved.]

Well, when one is moving around in a non-linear fashion...

About as linear as a length of yarn wound through a forest of trees. How are you, by the way?

[Little amused "hmm"~] I'm just fine. We're adjusting after the debacle with the book-burning. You don't sound so well, though.

I believe.... I believe my time might be spent.

Doctor, they do come back. Like we do when we're called away.

Yes.

But I'm left now with the lingering feeling I'm starting to do more harm than good.

Don't we all feel that from time to time?

Yes, but here... Not being appropriate for someone is the difference between death and salvation. Between a warlord, and leader.