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"Free of charge counselling sessions free of charge!" Says one screeching Dalek as it floats down the stairs. "Free Horoscope and palm-reading, as well. Find emotional well-being despite your frail human psyches!"

Dalek is always botherable.

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Shock is good! Shocked people often take up Dalek's offers.

"Human! You are paralysed by fear!" It's been reading self-help books. "I will uplift you from it! You will be uplifted! You will be uplifted! Uplift! Uplift!"

Father Mulcahy sets the paintbrush down. "Oh my."

"Paralysed by fear!" Dalek repeats, shaking back and forth slightly.

"Er," says Mulcahy. "I appreciate the offer, my -- child, but--" I don't find myself in need of uplifting today, he was going to say, a weak attempt at a joke, but then the ... creature is shaking back and forth and he returns to his default position of gaping and attempting to parse what exactly is going on right now.

When Daleks talk, they screech. When Daleks yell, it's nigh-painful to listen to.
"I am not a child! I am a Dalek! This is an insult to the Daleks, therefore you are an enemy of the Daleks, all enemies of the Daleks will be exterminated!" It's accompanied by spinning around and around and around.

Father Mulcahy sits up fast, unconsciously placing his hands up, palms out, in a conciliatory gesture. "I'm sorry!" he says, trying not to wince at the shouting. "I hadn't realized that you were a - a Dalek. I hadn't meant any offense."

"All recognise the Daleks! We were the Masters of the Universe!"

Father Mulcahy straightens. "I would beg to differ."

"You'd be wrong if you did, and," It adds sharply. "An enemy of the Daleks."

"The fact that someone disagrees with you certainly doesn't make them an enemy," he says, watching the Dalek closely.

"You are an enemy of the Daleks!" Dalek screams back at him, whirling around and around. "All enemies of the Daleks will be exterminated!"

Mulcahy starts, but then he frowns. "Throwing a tantrum isn't going to solve a thing," he says, firmly.

"Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!"

The spinning isn't stopping.

"Stop that," he says sharply, more so than is his habit.

It doesn't stop. Not in the slightest.

Mulcahy's eyes narrow. "I believe I may have been right in calling you 'child.' You're certainly acting like one."

Dalek stops, for a moment.
"Daleks do not have children!" Then, with the smug air of somebody who thinks it's won the argument, it starts spinning and shrieking again.

"Then how did you come into being?" he asks, raising his voice over the horrid shrieking.

"Daleks are created in factories." And once it's said that, it once more resumes the spinning and shrieking.

With one last thoroughly displeased look, Father Mulcahy hunches up the shoulder nearest to the Dalek and returns to contemplating his sign, trying to pay the creature no mind.

And Dalek spins away, out towards the back door.

And Father Mulcahy is certainly going to let it go. Good riddance.

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