[Narvin saunters up in his oldest set of Gallifreyan civilian clothes, a tunic and trousers in a drab russet. He wears a work belt with assorted pouches filled with tools and he thinks he looks like a Low Town handyman except for the staser pistol holstered at his hip.
He can't decide whether he resents not having the mantle of authority he had as Coordinator and then Chancellor or whether it's refreshingly relaxing to let other people be responsible for making decisions and him just carrying them out.]
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He can't decide whether he resents not having the mantle of authority he had as Coordinator and then Chancellor or whether it's refreshingly relaxing to let other people be responsible for making decisions and him just carrying them out.]
All right, let's get this over with.