Chapter Text
Martha's eyes skimmed over the chart in her hands without really seeing it. She was preoccupied by the presence of Doctor Stoker hovering behind her, watching her every move. (That was her defense, later, when Julia Swales teased her about missing the significance of the man she was treating.)
Trying to display her best bedside manner, Martha made light conversation as she assessed the patient's injury.
"How are you today?"
The patient smiled at her, all teeth and crinkled eyes. "Oh, let's just say... brilliant."
"And how did you injure your head, Mr.--" she glanced again at the chart--"Saxon?"
"Travelling. I like to fly here and there, now and then." His smile widened, verging on lecherous. "Turned out to be a bit of a bumpy ride, if you know what I mean, doctor."
Martha was used ignoring to the occasional suggestive remark from a patient, but there was something about Mr. Saxon's tone of voice that made her glance at his face. He was watching her keenly. She might have been a little unnerved, if she hadn't been so annoyed by the frankness of his gaze.
"Well, you haven't done too much damage," she told him brusquely, "A couple of stitches and you'll be good as new."
"A couple of stitches and a kiss will make anything better, I'd say." Mr. Saxon gave her a sharkish grin, daring her, she thought, to come back at him.
Gritting her teeth, Martha looked over her shoulder at Stoker for some support, only to find him staring past her through the window, daydreaming. His fingers twitched absently at his side.
She shook her head, sighing, and proceeded to disinfect, stitch and bandage Mr. Saxon with a speed and efficiency that Dr. Stoker praised her for later. She only wanted to get away from Mr. Saxon's leer and stare. She might have told him off, if they had been alone, or if she'd thought Dr. Stoker would back her up. As it was, she kept quiet and worked faster.
She gave Saxon a tight smile when she was done. "You're all set, Mr. Saxon. You'll need to follow up with your GP in a week to have those removed." She stripped off her gloves so quickly they snapped back at her and tossed them in the trash.
"But you haven't kissed it better." Mr. Saxon leaned forward, dark eyes glittering.
Martha's forced smile became even more strained. "Have a good day, Mr. Saxon."
"I'm waiting..."
Martha turned sharply on her heel and left the examining room, not bothering to wait for Dr. Stoker.
It was only when Julia caught her arm in the hallway and whispered, "Did you really treat Mr. Archangel himself?" that her mind made the connection: Mr. Saxon the obnoxious patient to Harold Saxon the entrepreneur-author-rising-star.
"Oh god," she exclaimed. "That was him? That was him."
"What was he like?" Julia's fingers squeezed her arm.
Martha wrinkled her nose. "Bit of a pig, actually. And he's got a sort of a weaselly face, hasn't he?"
"Martha Jones!" Julia gasped, but she giggled while she said it. "You're going to wake up and your mobile's going to be dead."
"The horror!" Martha laughed, and proceeded to put Harold Saxon out of her mind.