We are not monsters

"Well, because we don’t buy food,” he explained. “We’d try to, but Claire is too young to work, I’d need a work permit since I’m only sixteen, and Jazz can’t really hold a, uh, a durable form. Her skin comes off — it’s nasty. Like, it doesn’t come off super easily, but it’s not like normal skin. Claire accidentally tore her nose off this one time, and just… well, if that happened at a job because she had an accident, and the skin just grew back or it all started shedding, she’d be screwed. So, we don’t have money, so we can’t buy anything. Since most stores have security cameras, she can’t risk being herself- or the form she uses as herself.”

"Well... Well, not that I know of. Even if they did get in trouble, it's just a bit of food. You can't get jail time for that shit, right? I mean, at least nothing serious. Just a fine or a stay overnight." The teen trailed off. Why was he even defending it? No matter what, theft was wrong, but they had no other choice. Stealing was better than starvation. He did feel bad for the few times that people were caught, but most of them had sturdy alibis. They were fine.

"Exactly. It’s not like I can go to everyone and mentally connect our minds together, making them hear it too. Some beings out there have a mind that blocks so strongly, my mental link wouldn’t even work. And some have a mind that blocks so weakly… I could control them without ever coming into contact with them, hell, without seeing them." The Master had a mind somewhere in the strong side, but there were people who could break his walls down. Very few, and he had yet to encounter any more of them.

Coming from somewhere, huh? Maybe his brain acted like a car radio. Maybe he could hear radio waves, and all mashed together, it sounded like a steady beat. That wasn't possible, though. Even if it were, it wouldn't make a beat, right? It would be a messy garble of sound with no pattern or rhythm.  Jasmine couldn't see any reason for him to hear drums other than that he was crazy, but he couldn't be. The Master made her hear it. It had to be real.

"Yeah, yeah." The Master grumbled. He has had these drums for centuries— there wasn’t much to talk about there. Much less did he need anyone else’s pity, a few people’s pity were bad enough, especially if one of those people were the Doctor. It was agitating, and he just didn’t like it at all. "I’ve been told multiple times the drums were part of my insanity. He didn’t even bother to listen…" he growled, kicking the dirt.

"I dunno about that... I mean, you made me hear them, and I don't imagine shit," They sounded pretty damn real to her. They had to be real for them to be so clear, right? It sounded like people got it backwards, then -- drums weren't a part of it; they were the cause. How to fix it was beyond her, though. It was probably some weird alien cure: nothing she could do.

bandoffreaks

Bobby made sure to keep his distance from the girl, well aware of the fact that she was looking uncomfortable. He leant back against the support of the swing. “Alright, ya gotta find a better food source fer the kid. Best way ta do that’s findin’ yerself a blood bank an’ gettin’ blood from there.” He explained. “Yer gonna have ta find one a good distance ‘way, last thing ya wanna do attract attention ta yerself.”

She nodded slowly. Well, that could work. She wasn't sure where any blood banks were, but she could still try. How exactly would she go about stealing blood, though? Banks were probably heavily guarded. Jasmine could take the form of one of the workers, but that could easily make her get caught by hunters.

Whenever Jasmine ducked away from him, he raised an eyebrow. The Master knew she heard the drums, and the reaction he got was the same as anyone else’s. It amused him, seeing how they all backed away so quickly. If only he could do that same thing..

"That... That sucks." What else was she supposed to say? She legitimately felt awful for him, though not quite to the point of pity, but she wasn't that good at comforting someone who didn't even seem too upset. Or, maybe he was upset. It was pretty hard to tell. But constantly being told what to do would be like a nightmare to her, all the worse if it came from inside her own head. "Can't blame you for being crazy if you have to deal with that shit."