This time, the Doctor didn't manage to dodge, and he fell back with a rather undignified cry of pain, sprawling on the ground. Whatever the hell this man was doing to him (and a tiny, niggling reminder in the back of his head that he very much wanted to ignore but couldn't told him it was magic), it hurt. More than that, it burned. As he struggled to get to his feet, the Doctor smiled, and not the nice "I'm the Doctor and I'm here to help" sort of smile. No, it was the "I'm the Doctor and you had damn well better start running" smile, the kind that usually sent whole armies fleeing into the stars.

Hopefully, it would work, because frankly, the Doctor had no idea what to do where magic was concerned. "Sorry, but you're making a mistake. They're not puppets, they're people, and they're very much worth the effort," he began, finally managing to get to his feet and looking Kuja in the eye, unflinching. "They're always worth the effort, and frankly, I'm not surprised you don't see that. I'm also not surprised that you're not minding your own damn business." Okay, so it wasn't his best line, perhaps, but what the hell, he wasn't in the best mood right now and having some random bloke suddenly hit him with what looked like evil, luminescent volleyballs wasn't helping.