TLAWR Chapter Forty: Agatha Christie and a Party
An AU retelling of season 4, beginning with The Last of the Time Lords from season 3. First story in the All Roads Lead Home series. Rated teen.
10/Rose, Martha, Jack Harkness, Donna Noble, the Master, River Song, Sarah Jane Smith, and many more.
(Earlier Entries) ( Chapter Twenty-Five ) ( Chapter Twenty-Six ) ( Interlude: Torchwood ) ( Chapter Twenty-Seven ) ( Chapter Twenty-Eight ) ( Chapter Twenty-Nine ) ( Chapter Thirty ) ( Chapter Thirty-One ) ( Chapter Thirty-Two ) ( Chapter Thirty-Three ) ( Chapter Thirty-Four ) ( Chapter Thirty-Five ) ( Chapter Thirty-Six ) ( Chapter Thirty-Seven ) ( Chapter Thirty-Eight ) ( Chapter Thirty-Nine )
Nothing you recognize belongs to me!
Rose yawned and stretched. She felt good. Well, she was a bit sore, but that was to be expected after their activities the night before. She shifted and her hand hit something solid. Cool fingers laced through her own. She opened her eyes. The Doctor was lying on the bed next to her, looking rather bored and thoroughly shagged.
"Hello," she said softly.
He smiled at her, the slow spread of lips that was so different from the tight smile that meant 'I'm-totally-fine-but-not-really' and his usual manic grin. It was for her and only her and she could feel warmth bubbling up from the soles of her feet all the way to the tip of her nose. "Hello," he replied. "You've been asleep for ages."
She brought her wrist out from under the pillow, glanced at the watch that remained attached to it, and then rolled her eyes. "Eight and a half hours is hardly ages, Doctor." Her tone was dry, but the tongue-touched smile she gave him took the bite out of her words.
He brought their joined hands to his lips and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. "It is when you're Time Lord and you don't need sleep," he informed her. "Donna's already up."
Rose cocked an eyebrow as she looked him up and down. "Go out to the kitchen like that, then?" He was stark naked.
He glared at her in mock-outrage. "Are you trying to get me to regenerate? Because I would, you know, whether out of embarrassment or from the slap she'd give me, I'm not sure, but it would happen."
Rose laughed as she released his hand and swung her feet over the side of the bed. She was loath to leave it-the blankets were warm and soft and seemed to mold to fit her. But, she needed a shower and a change of clothes if they were to start the day, and she wouldn't get those things in the Doctor's room.
It was nice, waking up here. Previously he'd been the one coming to her, usually after she'd already gone to bed, but sometimes before. Her room was (mostly) the way she'd left it, although the TARDIS had done her a favor and seriously toned down the pink. When she'd first stepped into her room it was like something vomited pink everywhere. Sure, she'd loved it when she was twenty, but at two-hundred and four she was a bit beyond neon colors. It was a bit more pastel currently and the walls were a soothing shade of green.
The Doctor's room wasn't quite how she had imagined it, but it suited him. The furniture was simple but not as severe as it had been with her first Doctor. The bed was luxurious and the covers were the same deep blue as the walls. There was no ceiling; instead a projection of the night sky, any night sky, hovered above their heads. The furniture was made from some kind of dark wood and every available surface was covered with bits and bobs of machinery. It seemed that in any body he loved to tinker. The carpet was blue and thick and soft. It was a delightfully tactile room. She'd slept in it once before, just after she'd arrived-when she told the Doctor about Torchwood and what they'd done to her.
Rose gathered her clothes and started dressing. The Doctor pouted. She rolled her eyes. "Can't go wearing the same thing two days in a row," she told him. "An' unless you're hiding some of my clothes in that closet I've got to go back to my room. And in order to get to my room, I've got to get dressed."
"I could, you know," he said softly.
She blinked at him. "What?"
"I could have some of your clothes in my closet," he replied. "I was thinking that maybe, if you wanted to, you could sleep here. Unless, of course, you'd be uncomfortable, which is fine," he continued, mistaking her amused silence for judgment. "If you need your space there's no reason you can't-"
She silenced him with a finger pressed against his lips. He kissed it absently, his eyes focused on hers. "Are you asking me to share a room with you?" He glanced down at her finger and she removed it.
"Well, yes," he said after a while, and scratched the back of his neck. "I just-rather like having you here, and this bed is much larger and more comfortable than the one you've got, and Donna's my mate but she's entirely too smug when she runs into me in the hallway outside your door."
Rose paused for a moment, and then slipped her trainers on, laces still tied. "Okay," she told him.
It was his turn to blink. "Just, okay? That's it?"
"Yeah." She shrugged. "I wasn't sure that you'd want to, you know, share a room. You've always been so-private, about that sort of thing."
"I don't usually let companions into my room," he admitted. "But then, you stopped being a companion a long time ago." He glanced around the room. "Where did my trousers get to? And my tie?"
Rose laughed. "M not sure. Was a bit busy."
He nodded. "Oh, yes we were." He pushed off the bed and wandered around the room, collecting various articles of clothing from their respective locations. His trousers were next to the dresser, as it turned out, and his tie was half-way to the ensuite.
Rose sighed and closed her eyes as warm water sprayed against her back. The Doctor had followed her to her room, of course, and she'd had to practically drive him out of the shower. It was a pleasant thought, bathing with him, and it chased away other, less pleasant things she wasn't going to think about yet, but it wasn't conducive to starting the day and they still had two stops to make.
What are you going to do?
D'you remember that telepath? The one that Torchwood brought in?
Yeah.
I'm going to do that. Psychic overload.
She died screaming.
They killed dozens of innocent people, and are poised to abduct millions of children with the government's cooperation.
There was silence.
I gave them a chance.
I know.
But she wasn't going to think about that at the moment. She wasn't going to remember how it felt to watch the telepath die as her mind burned from the inside out. They had work to do and there would be time later for recriminations and guilt.
Donna and the Doctor were waiting for her in the kitchen when Rose emerged, freshly scrubbed. Breakfast was apparently over, but they waited until she'd eaten a bagel and downed a glass of orange juice.
"I know where I want to go after this," Donna said, when the dishes were in the sink and they were in the console room, waiting for the Doctor to take them out of the Vortex. "You've met Charles Dickens, and Martha got to meet Shakespeare. I want to see Agatha Christie." She looked at the Doctor. "What do you say, spaceman? Agatha Christie and a party? Could use a drink after the past few days."
The Doctor shuddered. "Donna Noble, I never want to see you drunk. But Agatha Christie is brilliant! A regular detective, she is. Notices everything."
"Is that a yes, then?" Rose asked from across the control console.
The Doctor grinned. "Agatha Christie and a party it is! Just have a run a few errands, and then you two can nip off to the wardrobe and find something historically appropriate to wear."
"Will there be running for our lives?" Rose wanted to know. "Don't want to risk spraining an ankle in one of my nice shoes."
"I'll do my best," the Doctor promised. "Now, allons-y!"
Their first stop was Lois Habiba's cell. Rose wasn't sure if they were stupid or just lazy, because they'd stuck her in a cell right next to where Alice and Steven and Ianto and Gwen had been held-and promptly rescued from. Of course, it could just be that whoever was in charge of allocating prisoners simply didn't believe them to be a threat. The thought brought a predatory smile to her face. How wrong they were.
The rescue went off without a hitch and Lois got over the shock of being in an alien craft that was bigger on the inside relatively quickly. "Don't think I have enough energy to be scared," she told them. "I used it all up being terrified earlier." They dropped her off in Cardiff, with Jack.
"The government will be looking for her for a little while," the Doctor explained, "and I'd like to have her somewhere they can't reach. Plus, I think Gwen offered her a job."
"She did," Rose confirmed.
"In that case, next stop coming up!" The Doctor flipped a switch and threw a lever and they were off again.
Brian Green, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland closed his office door with a sigh of relief. He rested his head against the cool wood of the door and took a moment just to breathe. The past few days had been a nightmare. They'd had riots in the streets earlier, because the aliens were gone but of course no one knew until an hour or so later, so they went ahead with the plan and collected the three hundred and twenty-five thousand children. By the time they knew what had happened the country was in an uproar. It was a publicity nightmare. He chuckled to himself-it was one he could blame on John Frobisher. There was a reason he'd agreed not to meet the aliens. He'd had no direct contact with them, after all. Everything that happened could be fobbed off on a flunky, and he could claim to have sorted it all, might even get elected to another term.
He turned around to head toward his desk, and froze. There were people in his office. Three people, to be exact. There was that girl-Rose something-Tyler, that was it, Rose Tyler. She stood next to a tall man in a long brown coat. His brown hair was wild, a look that either meant he spent an absurdly long amount of time on it or constantly suffered from severe bed-head. A ginger woman stood on his other side and she was glaring at him.
It was the man, however, that frightened him. His posture was relaxed-open, even-as he held the Tyler girl's hand, but his eyes were flat and empty. "Hello Prime Minister," he said softly.
"What are you doing here?" Green sputtered. How had they gotten in without being seen? His secretary hadn't seen anyone. Was she in on it? Did they bribe her?
The ginger woman snorted. "He's a Time Lord. He's got a TARDIS and it can go almost anywhere."
"We had a deal," the man called the Doctor continued in that same soft, dangerous tone. "I gave you a chance. That deal is off. You threw Ms. Habiba in prison and you sent men with guns to pull children from their homes." He paused. "Turn on the telly in about five minutes. I hear there's going to be something interesting on." He turned and strode to the corner, followed by the blonde and the ginger woman. Green blinked. There was a box, a big blue box sitting in the corner of his office and he hadn't even noticed. The door swung open and then slammed shut.
A wind seemed to come from nowhere. It scattered papers and other small items across his office as a strange grinding moan filled the air. Mr. Green stared at the corner as the box faded from sight.
Five minutes later there was a knock on the door. "Mr. Prime Minister," his secretary said. "You'll want to turn on the telly, sir."
The Doctor knocked on the Wardrobe room's door. "Rose?" he called. "Donna? We're going to be late for the party!"
"Time Machine!" the two women yelled in concert.
"I can't just go hopping about in the timeline, you know!" he replied. "I told you that before, Rose. We've landed and now we're part of events, so if you two don't hurry up we'll miss cocktails on the lawn!"
"Aren't you going to change?" Rose's voice drifted out to the hall.
"Why mess with perfection?" he asked and preened a bit.
"You're not vain at all," she replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice. Good. He wanted her to be smiling, to think about drinks and dancing and dancing and not running for her life for a bit. The past few days had been rough, even by his standards, and blimey, had it only been days since Messaline? No, he wasn't going to think about that, he told himself he wouldn't; he was going to focus on the present and enjoy meeting Agatha Christie at a party.
Donna was done getting ready first, of course. She exited the wardrobe and twirled around once. "What do you think?" she asked him. "Flapper, or slap 'er?" The dress was a classic 1920's style. It was black with a high neckline and thick straps. It was also heavily embroidered in various dark shades of brown and green. It had a cape back that ended an inch below the rest of the dress. The olive green threads brought out her eyes and complimented her skin.
"Suits you," he told her. "Definitely a flapper. And nice necklace."
She stood a bit straighter. "Thanks. TARDIS suggested it."
"She's a dimensionally transcendent space and time ship, and you've got her making wardrobe suggestions," he grumbled.
The door opened and Rose stepped out. "She may be all that," she said, "but she's also a girl, and girls like to do girly things sometimes, like dress up." The Doctor didn't respond-he was too busy looking at her.
Donna grinned slyly. "Think he likes the dress, Rose."
Rose smiled at him, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. "Cat got your tongue, Doctor?" she asked archly.
"Oh, never, Rose Tyler," he replied with one of his slow, spreading smiles. "You look beautiful." Rose's dress was ivory and longer than Donna's, which ended a few inches below the ginger woman's knees. Teardrop designs in gold and silver thread covered the bodice, with its high neck and back and open sides. An undershirt of the same material kept it from being too revealing. There was a tie at the waist and the fabric draped over it enough to call attention to Rose's figure without being too obvious. The hem swept the floor. It was an elegant dress, decorative enough that she had decided to go without a necklace. Instead several thin, golden bracelets decorated each wrist and golden studs glistened on her earlobes. Her hair, like Donna's, was pulled into an elaborate updo and held in place by a beaded string that wove through the knot. She was stunning, he thought, but then again, she always was.
"Beautiful for a human?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"For anything," he replied sincerely.
"All right you two, break it up," Donna teased them. "We've got a party waiting for us!" She threw open the doors and stepped out onto the lawn. "Let's go meet Agatha Christie!"
( Chapter Forty-one )
Rose's dress, if you're interested. :D
10/Rose, Martha, Jack Harkness, Donna Noble, the Master, River Song, Sarah Jane Smith, and many more.
(Earlier Entries) ( Chapter Twenty-Five ) ( Chapter Twenty-Six ) ( Interlude: Torchwood ) ( Chapter Twenty-Seven ) ( Chapter Twenty-Eight ) ( Chapter Twenty-Nine ) ( Chapter Thirty ) ( Chapter Thirty-One ) ( Chapter Thirty-Two ) ( Chapter Thirty-Three ) ( Chapter Thirty-Four ) ( Chapter Thirty-Five ) ( Chapter Thirty-Six ) ( Chapter Thirty-Seven ) ( Chapter Thirty-Eight ) ( Chapter Thirty-Nine )
Nothing you recognize belongs to me!
Rose yawned and stretched. She felt good. Well, she was a bit sore, but that was to be expected after their activities the night before. She shifted and her hand hit something solid. Cool fingers laced through her own. She opened her eyes. The Doctor was lying on the bed next to her, looking rather bored and thoroughly shagged.
"Hello," she said softly.
He smiled at her, the slow spread of lips that was so different from the tight smile that meant 'I'm-totally-fine-but-not-really' and his usual manic grin. It was for her and only her and she could feel warmth bubbling up from the soles of her feet all the way to the tip of her nose. "Hello," he replied. "You've been asleep for ages."
She brought her wrist out from under the pillow, glanced at the watch that remained attached to it, and then rolled her eyes. "Eight and a half hours is hardly ages, Doctor." Her tone was dry, but the tongue-touched smile she gave him took the bite out of her words.
He brought their joined hands to his lips and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. "It is when you're Time Lord and you don't need sleep," he informed her. "Donna's already up."
Rose cocked an eyebrow as she looked him up and down. "Go out to the kitchen like that, then?" He was stark naked.
He glared at her in mock-outrage. "Are you trying to get me to regenerate? Because I would, you know, whether out of embarrassment or from the slap she'd give me, I'm not sure, but it would happen."
Rose laughed as she released his hand and swung her feet over the side of the bed. She was loath to leave it-the blankets were warm and soft and seemed to mold to fit her. But, she needed a shower and a change of clothes if they were to start the day, and she wouldn't get those things in the Doctor's room.
It was nice, waking up here. Previously he'd been the one coming to her, usually after she'd already gone to bed, but sometimes before. Her room was (mostly) the way she'd left it, although the TARDIS had done her a favor and seriously toned down the pink. When she'd first stepped into her room it was like something vomited pink everywhere. Sure, she'd loved it when she was twenty, but at two-hundred and four she was a bit beyond neon colors. It was a bit more pastel currently and the walls were a soothing shade of green.
The Doctor's room wasn't quite how she had imagined it, but it suited him. The furniture was simple but not as severe as it had been with her first Doctor. The bed was luxurious and the covers were the same deep blue as the walls. There was no ceiling; instead a projection of the night sky, any night sky, hovered above their heads. The furniture was made from some kind of dark wood and every available surface was covered with bits and bobs of machinery. It seemed that in any body he loved to tinker. The carpet was blue and thick and soft. It was a delightfully tactile room. She'd slept in it once before, just after she'd arrived-when she told the Doctor about Torchwood and what they'd done to her.
Rose gathered her clothes and started dressing. The Doctor pouted. She rolled her eyes. "Can't go wearing the same thing two days in a row," she told him. "An' unless you're hiding some of my clothes in that closet I've got to go back to my room. And in order to get to my room, I've got to get dressed."
"I could, you know," he said softly.
She blinked at him. "What?"
"I could have some of your clothes in my closet," he replied. "I was thinking that maybe, if you wanted to, you could sleep here. Unless, of course, you'd be uncomfortable, which is fine," he continued, mistaking her amused silence for judgment. "If you need your space there's no reason you can't-"
She silenced him with a finger pressed against his lips. He kissed it absently, his eyes focused on hers. "Are you asking me to share a room with you?" He glanced down at her finger and she removed it.
"Well, yes," he said after a while, and scratched the back of his neck. "I just-rather like having you here, and this bed is much larger and more comfortable than the one you've got, and Donna's my mate but she's entirely too smug when she runs into me in the hallway outside your door."
Rose paused for a moment, and then slipped her trainers on, laces still tied. "Okay," she told him.
It was his turn to blink. "Just, okay? That's it?"
"Yeah." She shrugged. "I wasn't sure that you'd want to, you know, share a room. You've always been so-private, about that sort of thing."
"I don't usually let companions into my room," he admitted. "But then, you stopped being a companion a long time ago." He glanced around the room. "Where did my trousers get to? And my tie?"
Rose laughed. "M not sure. Was a bit busy."
He nodded. "Oh, yes we were." He pushed off the bed and wandered around the room, collecting various articles of clothing from their respective locations. His trousers were next to the dresser, as it turned out, and his tie was half-way to the ensuite.
Rose sighed and closed her eyes as warm water sprayed against her back. The Doctor had followed her to her room, of course, and she'd had to practically drive him out of the shower. It was a pleasant thought, bathing with him, and it chased away other, less pleasant things she wasn't going to think about yet, but it wasn't conducive to starting the day and they still had two stops to make.
What are you going to do?
D'you remember that telepath? The one that Torchwood brought in?
Yeah.
I'm going to do that. Psychic overload.
She died screaming.
They killed dozens of innocent people, and are poised to abduct millions of children with the government's cooperation.
There was silence.
I gave them a chance.
I know.
But she wasn't going to think about that at the moment. She wasn't going to remember how it felt to watch the telepath die as her mind burned from the inside out. They had work to do and there would be time later for recriminations and guilt.
Donna and the Doctor were waiting for her in the kitchen when Rose emerged, freshly scrubbed. Breakfast was apparently over, but they waited until she'd eaten a bagel and downed a glass of orange juice.
"I know where I want to go after this," Donna said, when the dishes were in the sink and they were in the console room, waiting for the Doctor to take them out of the Vortex. "You've met Charles Dickens, and Martha got to meet Shakespeare. I want to see Agatha Christie." She looked at the Doctor. "What do you say, spaceman? Agatha Christie and a party? Could use a drink after the past few days."
The Doctor shuddered. "Donna Noble, I never want to see you drunk. But Agatha Christie is brilliant! A regular detective, she is. Notices everything."
"Is that a yes, then?" Rose asked from across the control console.
The Doctor grinned. "Agatha Christie and a party it is! Just have a run a few errands, and then you two can nip off to the wardrobe and find something historically appropriate to wear."
"Will there be running for our lives?" Rose wanted to know. "Don't want to risk spraining an ankle in one of my nice shoes."
"I'll do my best," the Doctor promised. "Now, allons-y!"
Their first stop was Lois Habiba's cell. Rose wasn't sure if they were stupid or just lazy, because they'd stuck her in a cell right next to where Alice and Steven and Ianto and Gwen had been held-and promptly rescued from. Of course, it could just be that whoever was in charge of allocating prisoners simply didn't believe them to be a threat. The thought brought a predatory smile to her face. How wrong they were.
The rescue went off without a hitch and Lois got over the shock of being in an alien craft that was bigger on the inside relatively quickly. "Don't think I have enough energy to be scared," she told them. "I used it all up being terrified earlier." They dropped her off in Cardiff, with Jack.
"The government will be looking for her for a little while," the Doctor explained, "and I'd like to have her somewhere they can't reach. Plus, I think Gwen offered her a job."
"She did," Rose confirmed.
"In that case, next stop coming up!" The Doctor flipped a switch and threw a lever and they were off again.
Brian Green, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland closed his office door with a sigh of relief. He rested his head against the cool wood of the door and took a moment just to breathe. The past few days had been a nightmare. They'd had riots in the streets earlier, because the aliens were gone but of course no one knew until an hour or so later, so they went ahead with the plan and collected the three hundred and twenty-five thousand children. By the time they knew what had happened the country was in an uproar. It was a publicity nightmare. He chuckled to himself-it was one he could blame on John Frobisher. There was a reason he'd agreed not to meet the aliens. He'd had no direct contact with them, after all. Everything that happened could be fobbed off on a flunky, and he could claim to have sorted it all, might even get elected to another term.
He turned around to head toward his desk, and froze. There were people in his office. Three people, to be exact. There was that girl-Rose something-Tyler, that was it, Rose Tyler. She stood next to a tall man in a long brown coat. His brown hair was wild, a look that either meant he spent an absurdly long amount of time on it or constantly suffered from severe bed-head. A ginger woman stood on his other side and she was glaring at him.
It was the man, however, that frightened him. His posture was relaxed-open, even-as he held the Tyler girl's hand, but his eyes were flat and empty. "Hello Prime Minister," he said softly.
"What are you doing here?" Green sputtered. How had they gotten in without being seen? His secretary hadn't seen anyone. Was she in on it? Did they bribe her?
The ginger woman snorted. "He's a Time Lord. He's got a TARDIS and it can go almost anywhere."
"We had a deal," the man called the Doctor continued in that same soft, dangerous tone. "I gave you a chance. That deal is off. You threw Ms. Habiba in prison and you sent men with guns to pull children from their homes." He paused. "Turn on the telly in about five minutes. I hear there's going to be something interesting on." He turned and strode to the corner, followed by the blonde and the ginger woman. Green blinked. There was a box, a big blue box sitting in the corner of his office and he hadn't even noticed. The door swung open and then slammed shut.
A wind seemed to come from nowhere. It scattered papers and other small items across his office as a strange grinding moan filled the air. Mr. Green stared at the corner as the box faded from sight.
Five minutes later there was a knock on the door. "Mr. Prime Minister," his secretary said. "You'll want to turn on the telly, sir."
The Doctor knocked on the Wardrobe room's door. "Rose?" he called. "Donna? We're going to be late for the party!"
"Time Machine!" the two women yelled in concert.
"I can't just go hopping about in the timeline, you know!" he replied. "I told you that before, Rose. We've landed and now we're part of events, so if you two don't hurry up we'll miss cocktails on the lawn!"
"Aren't you going to change?" Rose's voice drifted out to the hall.
"Why mess with perfection?" he asked and preened a bit.
"You're not vain at all," she replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice. Good. He wanted her to be smiling, to think about drinks and dancing and dancing and not running for her life for a bit. The past few days had been rough, even by his standards, and blimey, had it only been days since Messaline? No, he wasn't going to think about that, he told himself he wouldn't; he was going to focus on the present and enjoy meeting Agatha Christie at a party.
Donna was done getting ready first, of course. She exited the wardrobe and twirled around once. "What do you think?" she asked him. "Flapper, or slap 'er?" The dress was a classic 1920's style. It was black with a high neckline and thick straps. It was also heavily embroidered in various dark shades of brown and green. It had a cape back that ended an inch below the rest of the dress. The olive green threads brought out her eyes and complimented her skin.
"Suits you," he told her. "Definitely a flapper. And nice necklace."
She stood a bit straighter. "Thanks. TARDIS suggested it."
"She's a dimensionally transcendent space and time ship, and you've got her making wardrobe suggestions," he grumbled.
The door opened and Rose stepped out. "She may be all that," she said, "but she's also a girl, and girls like to do girly things sometimes, like dress up." The Doctor didn't respond-he was too busy looking at her.
Donna grinned slyly. "Think he likes the dress, Rose."
Rose smiled at him, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. "Cat got your tongue, Doctor?" she asked archly.
"Oh, never, Rose Tyler," he replied with one of his slow, spreading smiles. "You look beautiful." Rose's dress was ivory and longer than Donna's, which ended a few inches below the ginger woman's knees. Teardrop designs in gold and silver thread covered the bodice, with its high neck and back and open sides. An undershirt of the same material kept it from being too revealing. There was a tie at the waist and the fabric draped over it enough to call attention to Rose's figure without being too obvious. The hem swept the floor. It was an elegant dress, decorative enough that she had decided to go without a necklace. Instead several thin, golden bracelets decorated each wrist and golden studs glistened on her earlobes. Her hair, like Donna's, was pulled into an elaborate updo and held in place by a beaded string that wove through the knot. She was stunning, he thought, but then again, she always was.
"Beautiful for a human?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"For anything," he replied sincerely.
"All right you two, break it up," Donna teased them. "We've got a party waiting for us!" She threw open the doors and stepped out onto the lawn. "Let's go meet Agatha Christie!"
( Chapter Forty-one )
Rose's dress, if you're interested. :D
