(no subject)

[deatheater-cook.livejournal.com]

Time: Late afternoon, 25 July 2000
Place: The Manor Grounds
Status: Public
Summary: The Barbecue

Severus had prepared for this extensively, had done research as soon as he was told that he needed to provide food for a ‘barbecue’. Well, that was American, wasn’t it? A newly-published book titled The Great American Barbecue and Grilling Manual was his starting point. (The words ‘great’ and ‘American’ did not belong in the same sentence, although perhaps he might be mistaken, never having been to America.) After learning that this was not merely an American cuisine but a regional (Southern) American cuisine, he began to specialise. Having found a butcher to bring a pig and something to cook it over (yes, the whole pig, you dolt) he learned that it could have been done with a goat as it had been in the Caribbean, and with less effort.

Having put forth effort already, he pushed ahead. The intensive labour required to prepare food by the slow ‘barbecue’ method had been provided by Remus Lupin, although he surely did not understand when he volunteered exactly what it was he’d be doing. The butcher himself was also interested and so Snape had ‘invited’ him to come and help. Work for the day, eat. Bring your family with you and they can help and eat also. Only if they help. Severus’ labour shortage crisis solved.

The whole concept of barbecue sauce was confusing, so he’d made three kinds. Two for public consumption—a South Carolina style with mustard, vinegar and black pepper that seemed reasonable enough. Kansas City style that was thick, red-brown, and gloppy, made with a tomato base and molasses. The third was for Crowley, a Texas-style sauce amusingly named ‘Devil’s Spit’ made from a tomato base with cumin and hot chiles. These American chiles being unavailable, he procured an Oriental variety that were infinitely hotter. Let him call that bland.

Chicken would go on, although not for as long as the blasted pig, and sausages for the unadventurous. The Brunswick Stew might end up in the restaurant under ‘American Cuisine’. It was simple enough, with a tomato base, lima beans (or any beans), corn, other vegetables, and meat. Traditionally rabbit or squirrel but he could use leftover pork, chicken, beef or even cut-up sausages. Basically, a fine way to rid himself of leftover almost anything and he revised his opinion of American ingenuity. The true test would be Crowley’s opinion. If he disapproved, it was definitely going on the menu.

Okra and sweet potatoes proved impossible to procure. Field greens—of the turnip variety—were simple enough to cook in some of the extra pig fat. Black-eyed peas, which looked an awful lot like beans, with bacon. He made carrots in sauce of butter and brown sugar that seemed terribly French, but he simply shrugged. There would be green peas—not mushy, unfortunately, which would have made Crowley complain and Snape smile, a dish of fried apples that was a side dish, apparently popular with pork, and potato salad. It was a source of annoyance that the recipe he found for this called for red potatoes that did not need to be peeled. How brilliant would it have been to set Lupin to peeling potatoes for his own requested potato salad?

Cornbread was simple enough to make, although all the different names and types confused him. The concept of beaten biscuits was repulsive so he settled on cheddar biscuits instead. American biscuits, he found, were a bread roll that seemed a bizarre combination of bap, scone, and crumpet. But they were a Southern staple and very simple to make. Devilled eggs—also simple, seemingly French—were another extra dish along with pickles of varied types. He refused to make grits—porridge was bad enough at breakfast and he would certainly not serve it in any other time.

Cold tea, sweet, with or without lemon was also a disgusting concept. Lemonade, if people wished to drink it. Lupin had to deal with squeezing the lemons, too. He had procured some Bourbon and Belial would, he imagined, not object if any leftover made its way to the bar. Mint juleps required it. Mint grew in the garden and sugar was a staple.

Having no sweet potatoes with which to make sweet potato pie, which seemed unpleasant anyway, he went with pecan pie. It was too sweet, but someone would eat it. Pound cake with whipped cream (another job for Lupin) and blackberry cobbler, which was enough like local fare for people to be willing to eat it. If he could have found watermelon, that would have been amusing. But messy, so just as well he hadn’t found it.

All in all, it was a great effort on his part, slave labour or no, and people had better appreciate it else he would be extremely put out.

"Let Wensleydale handle things in the kitchen, Lupin. The butcher will take care of serving the meat. You can clear plates and make sure the dishes are all filled." He had planned this. "The butcher's wife can help with drinks. The children have been disposed of."

Out of the way, nothing more sinister. Eating now, washing dishes later. Work for food, and a good trade on his part.

"Keep an eye on the biscuits, Wensleydale, and see that they don't burn. And make sure there is plenty of ice."

He turned.

"No, mint juleps are not sweets, get away from me, you silly child." Weren't they supposed to be on the far side of the lawn, eating their supper?

Attention Edit: As of this point the Devil's Spit sauce is no longer on the serving table but in Snape's hands, doled out by him. Please do not have your character get into it.

Comments

[-moonylupin-.livejournal.com]

Exhausted, and clad in a patched apron of some sort of flowered calico, Remus stood from the bench he'd been half-sleeping on, numbly nodding. "As you wish, Severus," he said blithely, taking his stance at the end of one of the tables, and trying frantically to remember all of the names to the dishes. He sincerely hoped no one would ask.

The picnic tables laid out in front of him loomed in the glaring sun as he watched, feeling sweat prickle at the back of his neck, and soak his temples. The light picked out gold, and far more silver, from his light brown hair, and Remus rubbed at the prickle of one of his scars - the one that began just near his right eye, slanting down across his nose. In this heat...

Besides the apron, of course, the werewolf had donned a worn-out, long-sleeved shirt, non-existent at the elbows and ragged at the cuffs, and a patched pair of trousers. (He only owned two pair, and the other one could only be described as worse.) And it was hot.

Remus watched out over the empty lawns, hoping the notices had been bold enough. Free food, who would resist?

[leucemic-god.livejournal.com]

Loki was strolling back to the manor after his meeting with death when the smell of food reminded him of the barbecue. For just a moment he was unsure what to do. He hadn't meant to attend, because most of the food at barbecues did not fit the diet his doctors had recommended.

Then again, barbecues required fires which could be quite difficult to light.

Loki grinned and changed course to follow the smell. He'd always loved playing with fire.

Neither the fire nor the party seemed to have been started yet, though. The only people around were the cook, his staff and ...

"Hello, Remus!" Loki called out to the nice, but quiet man he'd met in the library. "Been promoted to waiter?" Or would that be a demotion?

I hope that the silly child wasn't in reference to anybody in particular...

[radishesncorks.livejournal.com]

"So they are not related to the mint jujube in any way?" asked Luna, studying the glasses curiously.

She had seen the flier that had been shoved under her door, but she had a very bad head for dates. They were just so unimportant. It was only by a fluke that she'd remembered that there was a barbeque today. The food did look good though, and she said as much. "I wonder who the chef is? The food looks very nice."

Re: I hope that the silly child wasn't in reference to anybody in particular...

[deatheater-cook.livejournal.com]

Severus heard the familiar voice and turned suddenly.

"They are not even slightly related to jujubes, Miss Lovegood." She could try or not as she desired. It was an... interesting sort of drink.

"And the chef would be the usual chef of the Manor." If she didn't know he did not feel the need to inform her--until after she'd eaten and it was too late.

Nothing was poisoned, but his reputation had to be maintained.

[walk-the-abyss.livejournal.com]

Dream had caught news of the BBQ via excited Manor-tennants' dreams and decided that it couldn't hurt to check it out.

He tried to stay out of sight as he walked over to the table with various plated meats and several pots of sauces for them and picked up a paper plate, fork and knife. Using the provided tongs he plopped a piece of chicken on his plate, and half a sausage. Dream scooped a couple spoonfuls of the sauce that was a bit to the side, thinking that it must be the chef's specialty.

Sitting under a large tree's shade, Dream cut into the sausage and dipped it in the sauce.
As soon as it was slathered in sauce he brought the piece of meat up to his mouth and took a very regal bite. The moment the super-heated sauce touched his kingly tounge he grabbed his throat and hacked and sputtered sauce and sausage all over the grass. "What is this!?" Dream attempted to exclaim, but managed to only get out the "What--" before gagging and running towards the refreshments. Downing 5 Mint Juleps, Dream felt slightly more refreshed, but his face was bright pink (thanks to his colorless skin tone) and he couldn't feel his mouth.

[average-adam.livejournal.com]

Adam peered at the flushed, pale man (for lack of a better word) concernedly.

"Hallo, Dream. Are you all right?"

Edited

[diaktoros.livejournal.com]

Apollo was currently in the process of carrying Hermes on piggyback over the grounds. His slender brother was wound joyfully around him, giggling at the rush of air, holding tight to Apollo from behind.

Summer had been kind to them, reminding them of a Greek winter, and after Hermes had explained what a barbeque was (in a very begging tone, as he'd been persuading his brother to let him go while explaining), Apollo had liked the idea. Parties were fun, and Hermes had been a good boy lately.

He swung the blue-skinned boy into his arms, laughing merrily as his brother pulled him along. Both were back in traditional dress, since it was warm enough to; Apollo in a purple himation, Hermes in a deep blue exomis. The messenger stopped at the table, took a deep breath of all the smells, and promptly squealed, bouncing up and down.

"ItsmellssogoodIdunnowheretostartohTartarusIhaven'thadAmericanfoodinforeverthankyousomuchhowevermadeallthis!!"

Apollo decided to start the culinary adventure while his brother was working off giddiness, and tasted each sauce before deciding on the sweet one. He loaded his plate down and put the provided mint into his lemonade. He spotted Morpheus in an alcohol blush and smiled at the familiar face, sitting next to him.

"It's been a long time, Morpheus. Good to see you." Apollo smiled, beginning to eat--and keeping an eye on his very-excited brother, who was gushing over the food, totally forgetting that he was here to eat too as he helped serve others. As he went on about the food as people asked, his accent went flat and Californian instead of the soft London one most of the manor had grown used to the diaktoros having.

Re: Edited

[walk-the-abyss.livejournal.com]

Dream's eyes went in and out of focus as he attempted to identify the person addressing him. After a few moments the 6 images of the person in front of him had finally turned into 1 wavering being.

"It is good to see you too Apollo. I see you are taking good care of Hermes." He tossed down another Mint Julep, "Mind the hot sauce, it very nearly burnt my face."

[first-catwoman.livejournal.com]

Bast cocked her head to one side, studying the various dishes. Now, she could barely smell the meat through the eye-watering stink of some obviously over-used spice. Pork - that was more in Jacquel's taste, not her's. Dogfood. Sausages - again, dogfood. She never could see the point in any kind of processed meat. And chicken. Definitely catfood.
Ah. There. A whole chicken, not yet placed on the fire. That'd do purrrfectly. She sidled forward (she probably would have been whistling if she'd had the right sort of mouth), and reached out a newly hand-like paw and grabbed the carcass.

[roadkill-god.livejournal.com]

Horus had easily spotted the large amounts of meat, which didn't seemed to be watched very closely, and was about to try and snatch some when a furry hand beat him to it. A very familiar furry hand, attached to an even more familiar furry woman. He was surprised enough that he nearly fell out of the air, and he quickly glided down to a nearby tree to get a better look. He called softly, trying to get her attention.

[playswithboys.livejournal.com]

Pepper had known that the barbeque was going on, and if she had known how close it was going to be to the current area she was pruning and watering, she might have quit work early and joined everyone at the tables. As it was, she was rather preoccupied, staring a a gardenia bush that someone had undeniably peed on.

Dog hadn't done it. He was too short for that angle. It had to have been a human. Or at the very least, something human-shaped. Which meant that this particular gardenia bush wasn't getting pruned for a while unless she rinsed it for a good half hour to satisfy her own sense of hygiene. And that was a shame becase she'd been working hard and the rest of the area looked rather nice, if she did say so herself.

Locking the shears and tossing them on the ground, Pepper sighed and turned up the volume on the stereo she had dragged outside. It was on her favorite classic rock station to help distract her from the monotony and the heat. Just then a particular song started up, a rather ridiculous one that Pepper had always enjoyed since childhood for its screaming and its whacky lyrics. Bored and deeming the distraction good enough, she picked up the hose by its spray nosel, using it as a makeshift microphone, and started to lipsynch, dancing around the lawn in a manner that people normally confined to their bedrooms while they were in their underwear.

It was like lightning! Everybody was frightening!
And the music was soothing, and they all started grooving!
Oh, yeah!

And the man in the back said, "Everyone attack!" and it turned into a ballroom blitz
And the girl in the corner said, "Boy I wanna warn ya, it'll turn into a ballroom blitz"
Ballroom blitz!

Pep, what song is that? (excuse my ignorance XP)

[tardis-lord.livejournal.com]

The Doctor walked across the Manor grounds, hands in the pockets of his long trenchcoat, white Converse shoes probably gaining a myriad of grass stains. He grinned, though, as it was a nice day and, though he wasn't usually happy with the domestic front, he was quite looking forward to the barbecue. According to John, it was a good opportunity to meet people.

And last night, he had dreamed of Rose.

And - amazingly, by some miracle - it hadn't been a nightmare. He hadn't woken up crying or sweating or empty. In fact, he had woken up smiling. What was that human song? My heart will go on? Something like that. That film had had a Rose in it, too.

His smile widened. Even a whole world apart, they were still connected. (The Doctor found this regeneration had a tendency of looking on the bright side.)*

He was just checking his pockets - screwdriver, psychic paper, wallet, TARDIS key - when he heard an old song he hadn't heard for quite some time. Curiosity got the better of him.

He found a young red-haired woman (this Manor seemed to have a lot of those) using a hosepipe as a microphone and jumping around wildly as if she were on stage at a rock concert. He stopped walking, cocked his head on one side, and watched her until she noticed.

___
The Doctor doesn't die: he 'regenerates' (is played by a different actor). Each regeneration has a slightly different attitude to life.

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

Sirius made his way to the grounds, his stomach churning. Back in the comfort of his shared bedroom, when he’d noticed the stack of leftover flyers on the desk with some amusement (A Delightful Summer Barbecue? Sometimes he wondered how it had taken him nearly a decade to realize Remus was gay), this had seemed like a better idea. Remus had told him he didn’t have to come if he didn’t want to, and Sirius knew he had trouble with crowds, but he was tired of being alone, and frankly he and Remus were subsisting on so little that he couldn’t afford to pass up the free food.

But rational thinking was doing nothing for the fear he felt as he saw the people who were beginning to gather. It was a relatively small group, actually; much smaller than the thousands of people he’d envisioned when he’d been trying to persuade himself to go, but he wasn’t used to gatherings of people after the long, solitary years of Azkaban and being on the run, and he couldn’t help but remember the last time he’d been around a crowd, right before he’d been dragged off by the aurors, when the last thread of his sanity had snapped and he’d laughed in the middle of the gory street.

He shivered and banished the thought. He’d been doing so well, lately, and he didn’t want to fall back into old patterns. He was tired of being a burden on Remus, and he was tired of living in constant fear of his own mind. He was going to go to the bloody barbecue, and damn it, he was going to socialize. Even if it became too much, Remus would be about somewhere, and he could always spend the day with him. His heart leapt a little at the thought. Remus had been working almost constantly for several days now, and Sirius missed his company more than he would have believed possible.

He made his way cautiously up to the table where all the food was laid out, still a little suspicious of the concept of ‘free food.’ He looked about, hoping to catch a glimpse of Remus to calm his nerves, but he stopped when he saw the person standing next to the table, not four feet away, whom he had somehow missed. He tried to stifle the growl that automatically rose in his throat. How dare he, how dare Severus Snape be here in this place that he was trying to make into his safe haven?

“You,” he snarled, clenching his fists automatically until his knuckles went white. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

[deatheater-cook.livejournal.com]

How he had managed to miss a person--a threat--until it was so near was not exactly a mystery. This was a party and he was expecting people to be coming and going. So this one didn't register until he was far too close for comfort or safety.

At least the fool was wasting his time with cursing of the non-magical variety--not that he could actually be harmed on the grounds. Snape narrowed his eyes.

"As it happens, Black, I have employment here." He was more than a little smug about that, looking up and down the ragged figure. "Judging by what I see of you, you're here for the free food."

He almost smiled.

"I hope you enjoy it." Pause for effect. "I'm the chef here."

[bullfightposter.livejournal.com]

Food!

"Arright!" Brian hadn't needed to see a flyer-- he'd smelled it cooking. Protein on a grill-- perfect for the growing forward, oh yeah. And Wensley might be about, cos it was something to do with food, and that was his job, wasn't it?

"Looks brill," he told the dour-looking cook, helping himself to a heaping plate of just about everything. "How's the chili? Hot?"

[deatheater-cook.livejournal.com]

What an absolutely wonderful speciment of young manhood. Severus was distinctly unimpressed.

"When you say 'chili', to what are you referring?" he asked. "As I did not make any such thing."

Chili--a soup-stew of American (Southwestern) origin usually with spiced meat and beans. So-called because on of the main spices used to make it was chili powder. Also made using actual chiles. No, there was none of that here.

[classic-palm.livejournal.com]

Shadow had decided to bring some beer to the barbeque. It wasn't so much that he thought that there wouldn’t be enough refreshments as that, as an American, and possibly the only one in attendance, he rather felt it was his patriotic duty to bring beer. Not that Shadow had ever been particularly patriotic, but the point still stood.

It worked out pretty well, too, because Shadow had been rather craving barbeque sauce lately. English food was fine, but sometimes a man needed a good hearty American meal. Especially a man as big as Shadow. He wondered if there would be real biscuits, in the American sense of the word.

Quite familiar with the bar by now, he went into the back room and picked out several cases of different types of beer, ones he felt would go best with chicken and ribs and carried the load outside, finding the drink tables and setting them down beside the mint juleps.

There was plenty of ice to keep things cold, so he really didn’t need to do anything else.

[bullfightposter.livejournal.com]

"Shadow!" Brian waved at the man. "Wossat? Beer? C'n I have some?"

He jogged over to him, offering a hand to carry a case of beer. "Thinking of getting together some footy after dinner. Interested?"

[swords-love-me.livejournal.com]

War had spent the afternoon on the outer reaches of the Manor grounds, doing some longbow practice. It wasn't as though she really needed the practice, but it was good for the bows to keep them limber, especially when they were 7 foot and she was yet to find anyone else besides her able to draw them. She'd been working through up to the limits of the range of each bow when she heard noises coming from round the other side of the Manor - music, and shouting, and general hubbub. Then she twigged - that barbecue there'd been a notice about! It had gotten lost in the camouflage netting that draped her room, but she remembered seeing it. Hadn't it said something about free food, too?

She picked up the bows and crossed the grounds towards the noise, and found the crowd of people round the tables of food. She leant her bows against the wall of the Manor, and headed over to the tables and picked up a plate.

There seemed to be planty left, so she helped herself to a bit of everything, piling her plate up high, then grabbed a bottle of beer.

"Anyone got an opener for this thing?"

[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

Aziraphale shaded his eyes, looking down the tables. "Oh, I don't think they've got one out yet. Here," he said, miracling one, and passed it over to the girl, without glancing up from ladelling his plate full of the rather mesmerizing dishes.

He'd come down late from the library, enthralled in the books and lost in one particularly arcane text that he'd acquired, following his nose to the wonderful smells of the banquet outside in the late afternoon sunshine that had floated through the open third-floor window and hastily reminded him that he liked eating.

Besides, Aziraphale thought, patting not-as-muscular-as-it-had-been stomach, he needed to get back into his old, far more comfortable shape.

M

[demon-mictain.livejournal.com]

Mictain peeked outside cautiously. He'd recovered enough to leave the hospital wing quite a while ago, but had decided it to be the best if he stayed out of sight for still some more time. Now, however, he was certain he'd regained all of his strength, and decided the barbeque would be the best possible occasion to rejoin the community.

Thus, he now put on his best smirk, checked his appearance, and walked towards the people gathered at the barbeque. Sooner or later, he figured, somebody was bound to notice him.

[i-hate-crawly.livejournal.com]

Having earlier been informed of the event by Hastur, Ligur - thankfully realising that this wasn't going to be a fancy dress Barbarque and therefore refraning from donning his 'special outfit' - sidled towards the group congregated around the serving table. Glancing around, he was unable to spot his skulkmate, so he took a gluttonous look at the spread.

"Not bad," he said to nobody in particular hoping that his partner in lurk (loitering by oneself could be fun but it was always better to have a partner), "but it could benefit from a bit of virgin's blood pudding and flame grilled blasphemers ribs."

[leucemic-god.livejournal.com]

Loki was just about to return to Uriel's side with a plateful of salad when he overheard the comment. He raised one by now hairless eyebrow.

"There's blood pudding and flame grillid ribs right here, I believe," he told the plump looking stranger. "Why would it have to be virgin's blood? And what exactly is a blasphemer anyway?"

Virgin's blood. Ewww. Some people really had weird tastes.

[barking-harry.livejournal.com]

With a cheerful smile, Harry, having spent most of the morning and afternoon trying to do something about the stains in the corridor on the fourth floor, stepped out of the Manor and into the sunshine and saw the assortment of Manor staff and residents milling about with plates in their hands (or in Duke Ligur's case with handfuls of mushed up greasy looking food). By the looks of things he was perhaps a little late, but the carpet stains he'd been doing battle with really had been persistent.

Locating a clean plate, he began to pile it high with the delcious looking food on the serving table while keeping an eye out for anybody might know.

[bullfightposter.livejournal.com]

Brian was feeling great after that soss. It'd really put the spring in him.

He caught what he thought was a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye. Wensley!

"Think quick!" He didn't look before he sprang into a tackle. It wasn't until he'd actually collided that he realized that the young man currently on the wrong end of some fifteen stone of flying Brian was not, in fact, Wensleydale.

[bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com]

Uriel waited patiently as Loki went to get some salad. She was good at patience. Most angels were.

She could not help but notice, however, as the Doctor walked by, apparently looking for something. "Hi, Doctor!" she shouted, trying to get his attention. In Loki's absence she figured he would do as proper company. She wanted to talk with somebody // anybody, really (and very, very much hoped this wasn't a sign of a manic episode on the way). "Have you lost something?"

[tardis-lord.livejournal.com]

"Hello, Uriel!" he said brightly. He was dearly tempted to hug her too, but decided against it. Partly because Loki was probably at the barbecue and partly because Mictain hadn't exactly reacted well.

The Doctor smiled at Uriel. "I was just wondering if they had a jelly babies," he explained. "I quite like them. Well, no, that's a lie. I love jelly babies. I haven't had a craving this bad for them in a very long time..."

He shook his head. "Never mind, though," he said, "I'll survive until I can find a shop that sells them."

[tardis-lord.livejournal.com]

The Doctor sat down on the grass, a little way from the barbecue. Close enough to hear anything of importance, but far enough away not to be bothered needlessly.

He ate a few more jelly babies, because yes, they were comforting. Jelly babies were familiar. You knew where you were with jelly babies.

He hunched his shoulders over and shivered, even though it was a fine day and he wasn't really cold. But he felt cold. He felt cold inside. He felt as if someone had drilled a hole through his defences and was laughing as all these new, strange, alien ideas invaded and attacked all he already knew.

No, not alien ideas. Alien ideas he could understand and cope with. These ideas... well, they were religious, weren't they?

The Doctor sighed and brought his knees up to his chin. What he really, really needed right now was Rose Tyler back. He could talk to her, and they would sort through these new ideas together.

Rose Tyler, and a cup of tea.

[average-adam.livejournal.com]

Adam flopped sadly onto the ground next to the Doctor and mirrored his position. "Hi. 'm Adam. You looked so quiet and thoughtful over here that I thought I'd join you. But if I'm interruptin' please let me know and I'll go again."

[bullfightposter.livejournal.com]

Having tackled the wrong guy (but no harm done) and been cheerfulled at, Brian was in a sort of an odd, doubtful mood.

Fortunately, he saw just the thing to get him in a more decisive mood.

Brian rarely got really angry. But rarely doesn't mean never.

His face darkened. "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO PEPPER?"

[average-adam.livejournal.com]

"Calm down, Brian," said Adam sadly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "She's gonna be all right. Anathema and Shadow are takin' care of her."

[murder-a-curry.livejournal.com]

Death watched the spectacle from a short distance away. Really. What was this?

WHY DO THEY EAT OUTSIDE ON THEIR FEET WHEN THEY COULD ENJOY A PROPER MEAL SITTING DOWN INSIDE?

He shook his head realizing full well that though He'd come here to gain a better understanding of the beings that were his trade (so to speak), He still had a very long way to go indeed.

[tardis-lord.livejournal.com]

The Doctor did a double-take.

"Ooo-kay," he said. "Jelly babies out of thin air, a cat-woman, and now a talking skeleton." (At least, he assumed it was the skeleton who had spoken. He assumed it was speaking. The words seemed to reach his brain without consulting his ears first.)

Slightly gingerly, the Doctor got to his feet and walked over to the skeleton. "Hi," he said. "I'm the Doctor. How are you?"