‘Not bad…not bad at all. Nearly a perfect landing this time.’
‘Nearly?’ questioned Rose, walking to his side. ‘You mean you’ve had less than perfect landings before?’
The Doctor looked over to her, hurt. ‘Never!’
He paused.
‘Well, almost never. And we don’t talk about them very often, do we?’
Rose looked at him, perplexed. ‘We’ve…umm…never talked about them, Doctor.’
He smiled. ‘I wasn’t talking to you, Rose.’
Rose opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it, thinking better of it. ‘Oh,’ she finally replied. So he really does talk to the TARDIS, she thought to herself. Are you really sure this was a good idea?
She immediately answered herself.
Of course it was!
‘So, where are we?’ she asked.
The Doctor smiled as he turned a video display to face her. ‘See for yourself!’
She looked. The display was a little grainy, and she could barely make out anything on it.
‘Oh…hold on a moment,’ the Doctor said. ‘It always seems to do this. I really must get this fixed one of these days.’ He banged it hard on the side, his open hand slapping the Magpie Electricals logo on the cabinet. ‘Now look.’
Rose peered at the display. It was a large building…certainly not an arena or club like she expected. More like a performance hall. And above the entryway hung a banner which read ‘Festival international d'art contemporain de Royan.’
Rose looked over at the Doctor, whose smile threatened to split his head in two. ‘Really?’
He nodded.
‘First of all, Doctor, I don’t even know what that means. Second of all, where on Earth are we? Third of all, are we even on Earth? Fourth of all…what?’
The Doctor laughed. ‘The Royan Festival of contemporary art, which by its name naturally infers that we are in Royan, which happens to be on the coast of France and therefore definitely Earth. It’s 1977, and I figured after a near death experience in Cardiff in 1869, something relaxing and cultured might do you good.’
Rose cocked one eyebrow sarcastically.
‘Hey, there’s nothing wrong with expanding your horizons! And you’ve already expanded yours to the past and the distant future…this will be a walk in the park for you!’
‘Will there be aliens?’ Rose asked the obvious question, her eyes almost hopeful at first. ‘Little blue ones that spit on me, or trees that talk?’ Rose voiced that question so the ending dripped with sarcasm.
‘I doubt it.’
‘Alien ghosts that want to take over the dead bodies of humanity?’
The Doctor shook his head. ‘Most likely not.’
'And not a rock concert.'
The Doctor's smile seemed wider than ever. 'Most definitely not a rock concert, Rose.'
‘First of all, Doctor, I don’t even know what that means. Second of all, where on Earth are we? Third of all, are we even on Earth? Fourth of all…what?’
The Doctor laughed. ‘The Royan Festival of contemporary art, which by its name naturally infers that we are in Royan, which happens to be on the coast of France and therefore definitely Earth. It’s 1977, and I figured after a near death experience in Cardiff in 1869, something relaxing and cultured might do you good.’
Rose cocked one eyebrow sarcastically.
‘Hey, there’s nothing wrong with expanding your horizons! And you’ve already expanded yours to the past and the distant future…this will be a walk in the park for you!’
‘Will there be aliens?’ Rose asked the obvious question, her eyes almost hopeful at first. ‘Little blue ones that spit on me, or trees that talk?’ Rose voiced that question so the ending dripped with sarcasm.
‘I doubt it.’
‘Alien ghosts that want to take over the dead bodies of humanity?’
The Doctor shook his head. ‘Most likely not.’
'And not a rock concert.'
The Doctor's smile seemed wider than ever. 'Most definitely not a rock concert, Rose.'
Rose inhaled deeply, then sighed.
‘OK, then...is there anything I should know before we head out there?’
The Doctor rubbed his chin. ‘Well, you may want to dress for the occasion.’
Rose looked down at her clothing. ‘What…are you saying I’m underdressed?’
The Doctor laughed. ‘I’m just saying that if you are planning on going to the concert, which is being held in a proper symphonic concert hall, that jeans and a Union Jack t-shirt may not necessarily be the most appropriate of dress.’
Rose stuck out her hand, one finger jabbing the Doctor in his chest. ‘And I suppose a leather jacket and jumper are just fine then?’
The Doctor looked down at his jumper. He was about to argue that at least he changed out of his usual black jumper for a charcoal grey one, and it was clean, but thought better of it. An idea popped into his head, and he looked up, smiling widely.
‘I’ll make you a deal then,’ the Doctor said with a grin. ‘Up the stairs, down the hall, third door on the left. Find something nice. Meet you back here in twenty minutes, and we’ll see if I meet your approval. Deal?’
The Doctor stretched out his right hand.
Rose thought for a moment before taking his hand and shaking it. ‘Deal, mister. Twenty minutes!’
It took far less than twenty minutes. For Rose, at least, it took less than twenty minutes. She’d found the room, wondering why exactly the Doctor had a wardrobe of women’s clothing. She took a few moments to look through the closets, and wondered at the names she saw…
Barbara… Susan… Polly… Victoria… Jo… Sarah Jane… Tegan… Romana… Nyssa… Perpugilliam…
‘What kind of name is Perpugilliam’ she asked out loud to herself.
Finally she found a classic black dress, floor length. Surely this would be appropriate, for if not this, then what would be? She whispered thanks for the mirror in the room and quickly pulled her hair up in a loose tangle. She remembered how much she liked this look when she was running from those zombies in Cardiff… at least her hair didn’t fall into her face or get in the way. She sampled the few fragrances on the vanity, found one that was clean without being cloyingly flowery and took a look in the mirror. She smiled in approval and made her way back to the TARDIS control room.
As she expected, it was empty save for her.
‘Doctor?’
No response.
‘Doctor? You said twenty minutes!’
She heard a mutter, followed by a sharp, pained ouch, some more muttering, and a strained ‘Just one moment…this is always the hardest part!’
A few minutes passed before she heard footsteps making their way toward the control room.
‘OK, then...is there anything I should know before we head out there?’
The Doctor rubbed his chin. ‘Well, you may want to dress for the occasion.’
Rose looked down at her clothing. ‘What…are you saying I’m underdressed?’
The Doctor laughed. ‘I’m just saying that if you are planning on going to the concert, which is being held in a proper symphonic concert hall, that jeans and a Union Jack t-shirt may not necessarily be the most appropriate of dress.’
Rose stuck out her hand, one finger jabbing the Doctor in his chest. ‘And I suppose a leather jacket and jumper are just fine then?’
The Doctor looked down at his jumper. He was about to argue that at least he changed out of his usual black jumper for a charcoal grey one, and it was clean, but thought better of it. An idea popped into his head, and he looked up, smiling widely.
‘I’ll make you a deal then,’ the Doctor said with a grin. ‘Up the stairs, down the hall, third door on the left. Find something nice. Meet you back here in twenty minutes, and we’ll see if I meet your approval. Deal?’
The Doctor stretched out his right hand.
Rose thought for a moment before taking his hand and shaking it. ‘Deal, mister. Twenty minutes!’
It took far less than twenty minutes. For Rose, at least, it took less than twenty minutes. She’d found the room, wondering why exactly the Doctor had a wardrobe of women’s clothing. She took a few moments to look through the closets, and wondered at the names she saw…
Barbara… Susan… Polly… Victoria… Jo… Sarah Jane… Tegan… Romana… Nyssa… Perpugilliam…
‘What kind of name is Perpugilliam’ she asked out loud to herself.
Finally she found a classic black dress, floor length. Surely this would be appropriate, for if not this, then what would be? She whispered thanks for the mirror in the room and quickly pulled her hair up in a loose tangle. She remembered how much she liked this look when she was running from those zombies in Cardiff… at least her hair didn’t fall into her face or get in the way. She sampled the few fragrances on the vanity, found one that was clean without being cloyingly flowery and took a look in the mirror. She smiled in approval and made her way back to the TARDIS control room.
As she expected, it was empty save for her.
‘Doctor?’
No response.
‘Doctor? You said twenty minutes!’
She heard a mutter, followed by a sharp, pained ouch, some more muttering, and a strained ‘Just one moment…this is always the hardest part!’
A few minutes passed before she heard footsteps making their way toward the control room.
‘Close your eyes, OK?’
The Doctor watched as Rose dramatically shut her eyes, placing her hands over her face to cover them as well. He already knew how lovely she looked when she dressed up…he keenly remembered the shock he felt when she came out of the wardrobe in that Victorian dress before they were supposed to step out into Naples. So it was no surprise seeing the young lady dressed for an evening at the symphony. He only hoped that she would be as surprised now as he was then.
Rose heard the Doctor take a few more steps, and then stop.
‘OK, you can open your eyes now.’
She removed her hands with a dramatic flourish and opened her eyes. Her mouth opened just as wide.
‘What?’ the Doctor asked? Did I button my shirt wrong?’
‘Rose composed herself. ‘No, it’s just…’
‘Just what?’ the Doctor inquired.
‘You said I clean up well…well, just look at you!’
Rose walked around him, taking in the sight of the Doctor dressed in a manner unlike any she had seen before. Gone were the black jeans, the dark jumper, the distressed leather jacket and boots. In their place he wore a black dinner jacket and trousers, a satin braid over the outer seams. His white dress shirt nearly glowed with its brightness, while the shirt’s front was adorned with shiny black studs. A black silk bow tie glistened in the shifting light of the TARDIS. That same shifting light flickered across his mirror-polished black leather shoes.
The Doctor looked at Rose questioningly. ‘Well?’
Rose smiled. ‘I’m shocked, Doctor.’
‘Shocked? Why?’
‘Well,’ she continued, as she walked a slow circle around the Doctor, ‘I’ve never seen you dressed like…’
‘Like what?’
She motioned her hands up and down, trying to express in hand signals what words could not at that moment.
‘Like…that.’
The Doctor laughed.
‘If you think this is shocking, wait till you see me dance.’
‘You? Dance?’
‘Of course!’ exclaimed the Doctor. ‘I’ve been known to dance from time to time. If the moment is right, that is. Maybe not to the music we’re about to hear, mind…I’m more of a swing dancer.’
He waved his arms back and forth slightly, snapping his fingers.
‘But yeah, I can dance.’
Rose smiled. ‘I’d like to see that.’
‘Maybe you will, Rose,’ the Doctor replied. He paused, and then narrowed his eyes slightly.
The Doctor watched as Rose dramatically shut her eyes, placing her hands over her face to cover them as well. He already knew how lovely she looked when she dressed up…he keenly remembered the shock he felt when she came out of the wardrobe in that Victorian dress before they were supposed to step out into Naples. So it was no surprise seeing the young lady dressed for an evening at the symphony. He only hoped that she would be as surprised now as he was then.
Rose heard the Doctor take a few more steps, and then stop.
‘OK, you can open your eyes now.’
She removed her hands with a dramatic flourish and opened her eyes. Her mouth opened just as wide.
‘What?’ the Doctor asked? Did I button my shirt wrong?’
‘Rose composed herself. ‘No, it’s just…’
‘Just what?’ the Doctor inquired.
‘You said I clean up well…well, just look at you!’
Rose walked around him, taking in the sight of the Doctor dressed in a manner unlike any she had seen before. Gone were the black jeans, the dark jumper, the distressed leather jacket and boots. In their place he wore a black dinner jacket and trousers, a satin braid over the outer seams. His white dress shirt nearly glowed with its brightness, while the shirt’s front was adorned with shiny black studs. A black silk bow tie glistened in the shifting light of the TARDIS. That same shifting light flickered across his mirror-polished black leather shoes.
The Doctor looked at Rose questioningly. ‘Well?’
Rose smiled. ‘I’m shocked, Doctor.’
‘Shocked? Why?’
‘Well,’ she continued, as she walked a slow circle around the Doctor, ‘I’ve never seen you dressed like…’
‘Like what?’
She motioned her hands up and down, trying to express in hand signals what words could not at that moment.
‘Like…that.’
The Doctor laughed.
‘If you think this is shocking, wait till you see me dance.’
‘You? Dance?’
‘Of course!’ exclaimed the Doctor. ‘I’ve been known to dance from time to time. If the moment is right, that is. Maybe not to the music we’re about to hear, mind…I’m more of a swing dancer.’
He waved his arms back and forth slightly, snapping his fingers.
‘But yeah, I can dance.’
Rose smiled. ‘I’d like to see that.’
‘Maybe you will, Rose,’ the Doctor replied. He paused, and then narrowed his eyes slightly.
‘What’s wrong, Rose?’
‘Nothing,’ she replied, almost too quickly. ‘It’s just…I suddenly feel very underdressed.’
‘Nonsense!’ the Doctor exclaimed. ‘You look lovely. A lovely companion for an evening of music. That is assuming, of course, that you should wish to accompany me, mademoiselle?’
‘Nothing,’ she replied, almost too quickly. ‘It’s just…I suddenly feel very underdressed.’
‘Nonsense!’ the Doctor exclaimed. ‘You look lovely. A lovely companion for an evening of music. That is assuming, of course, that you should wish to accompany me, mademoiselle?’