The wardrobe in the Guardian's TARDIS was quite kind as to provide Barbara with a rack of clothes to choose from. Well, probably not just Barbara, but it certainly felt that way. The dress she chose fitted perfectly, and even the bottom hem stopped at the perfect length above the floor. She smoothed the dress over her hips as she admired herself in
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"Miss Wright," he acknowledged as he did so. "Where's the fire?"
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Barbara handed to bits of...things...back to the Captain. "What is all of this for?"
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He looked her over. "I take it you're heading outside."
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