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In a warm, squashy bed in a in a London flat, Peter Capaldi sleeps after a long day of filming. While he seems to rest soundly, the edges of his face pull around in all directions - up and down, to and fro. Those catching him snoozing around set claim its the secret to Capaldi’s magnificent gestures - flexing his facial muscles in his sleep, but Capaldi knows better. No mere man, not even the one who would be the Doctor, could create a piercing gaze so stunning on his own. His visage has a mind of its own,quite literally, and while they keep an eye out for the good actor during the day, they of course, understand the need to keep up appearances and keep quiet until the world is asleep. Tonight, a whine could barely be heard as the right side of Capaldi’s brow drooped low.
“I don’t know what to do.” Right Eyebrow raised itself ever so slightly over the bridge of Peter Capaldi’s nose, “No matter how much I try, I can’t get through to Left. I’m so lost.”
A pair of flaring nostrils piped up from below, “You two having problems again, Righty? I thought you did good today. You were right there, almost touched even. I’d say you were just short, missed by a nose!” A deep snore signaled that Nose was chortling at his own joke.
“It’s not funny, Schnoz,” Right furrowed, leaning far enough down that it hoped Nose could sense the disapproval, “Lefty and I have been partners for years. In the old days, we used to touch all the time, but we’re always just apart when there’s so much in the world that should keep us together!”
Nose snorted, “You did hold up Randall Brown’s glasses for while…”
“Not just that!” Right exclaimed, “We have our attack formation! And the Malcolm stance! I mean, how genius is our chemistry when you can say “Fuck off” with just your eyebrows?”
“Peter said it with plenty more than just his eyebrows, I think.”
“That’s besides the point, Nose. Together, we’re brilliant! But I don’t know how to tell left I want to be closer again, and I think even Peter’s helping. Last time I tried, he poked me with tweezers, Nose! Tweezers!”
“Oh come now, Peter has to look nice for the cameras. I’ve been tweezed a plenty,” Nose said soothingly. “Look, if you’re so worried about losing him, why don’t you let me have a few words with Lefty? Little late tonight. Half of Face is sleeping right now, and the other half is eavesdropping,” Nose’s nostrils flared out to the left and right, pointing gingerly at Capaldi’s ears, “You know we have that last Doctor Who finale scene to film tomorrow. Big day you know, and you know Peter will be extra excited. We’ll have a little time to chat.”
“You’d do that? Seriously Nose? Oh! You’re the best! I knew I couldn’t believe half the things Ears said they heard about you!”
“No sweat, Righty. And I go mean that as a figure of speech, just in case those glistening temples are getting any ideas.” Since only the snoozing of Capaldi answered, Nose figured even Righty in their excitement had dashed off to sleep. Sure enough, Nose saw Righty nuzzled comfortably on Capaldi’s brow, giving just an absolutely perfect view of Left, perfectly arched. Nose took a few moments to take in Lefty’s beautiful form, how the tip curled just the tiny bit at the end. It reminded Nose of Mustache, who had been so long gone since Peter had taken on the mantle of the Doctor. Before, Nose could sidle up to that swishy magnificence, but now it was the time of the Eyebrows and the so-called bigger and better things. It was all their fault - especially Righty, for coming up with so many of Peter’s classic Doctor glances. There was no room for Mustache and Nose anymore. Had Righty forgotten that just last week, it had gloated for hours over having its own part in the script? Eyebrows...as a line. Apparently the writers think they’re such a funny pair. Peter was so enthralled that he just let them go wild. Lefty was much more humble. It calmly paired up Right’s wild poses to achieve perfection. Never gloating, never bouncing all over the place. Yes, Nose would be happy to have a few words with Left Eyebrow.
The next morning breathed an air of excitement throughout Capaldi’s flat. The actor sprang from his bed and got ready for the last day of shooting before a nice, long break. By now, most of Face was up poking about. Capaldi spent a little time massaging all of the denizens of his face until everyone had settled in for the day. Right Eyebrow chanced a hopeful glance down at Nose, whose nostrils flared a couple of times. After figuring that was about as close to wink as Nose ever was going to get, Right arched into place on Capaldi’s brow as he set off for the studio.
Shooting began and the hours began to tick by, with Face giving some of its most magnificent performances yet. Right, energized by last night’s discussion was in rare form. It shot up and down, arched, and curled for the cameras, with Lefty gingerly moving to match suit, keeping the expression fluid for the cameras. After a series of takes, Nose wriggled its bridge to get Left’s attention. Left furrowed down after a moment, and Right Eyebrow arched as high the forehead as it could, giving Nose time to work its magic.
The tip of Left Eyebrow curled in a greeting, “G’day, Nose. The shoot treating you alright?”
Nose flared its nostrils, “I wish. Right’s been beating up my bridge all morning. Heard last night the furball was planning to knock me clean off of Face. What did I do wrong? I know Righty was jealous of me and Mustache, but you’d think they’d be happy just getting rid of the one of us.”
“Right...jealous of Mustache? I never knew…” Lefty seemed to droop a little.
“Don’t let me bring you down with me on shooting day Lefty. You’ve always been so nice. I just wish someone would knock Right off its highbrow.”
“I tell you what, Nose. I think I can help out a little bit. I’ll just need to call in a favor from the neighbors,” Lefty curled down lower and whispered a few quick words below him before Face set itself for the next take.
Everything was in place, and Peter began. While Right Eyebrow was all over the Face, Lefty knew that an *eyebrows* scene was coming up in the script, and it aimed to make it extra special. Capaldi paused and turned his head to lock in a glance, and while Right Eyebrow struck a pose, Left furrowed, tucking itself as close to Nose as possible.
Right arched back, almost stunned, “What...are you? No!”
And then it happened. Capaldi’s left eye blinked. Lefty’s swishy ends brushed down the the top of the bridge of Nose and back up again. Nose relished the sensation, then the satisfaction as Right’s ends curled in anger. Lefty had settled withdrawn on Capaldi’s brow, as far away from Right as possible.
“What’s wrong, Righty?” Nose flared its nostrils, taunting, “I told you not to sweat it.” It wrinkled as a bead of moisture dropped down Face, “You should have remembered. The Nose knows. And the Nose never forgets, just like I’ll never forget my Mustache. Enjoy the tweezers, furball.”
As the scene wrapped, the directors pleased with the final take, Capaldi ran a hand over its face to settle it down. He spent a moment rubbing his brow, quelling to him must assuredly have been a muscle twitch on the right side.
“Oh come now, we’ll be back at it before you know it,” the actor smirked at the mirror, winked at his visage, and headed home.