Dr. Who/Young Wizards Crossover Fic: Snack Time
Title: Snack Time
Author: phoenix_laugh
Rating: G
Word Count: 1860
Prompt: 52. Doctor Who Crossover: Carmela takes lunch/tea/whatever with a time traveling alien.
Summary: Carmela spends a pleasant half-hour talking over a snack with a stranger.
Notes: Set Post-Wizard of Mars and between "The Curse of the Black Spot" and "The Doctor's Wife." Thanks to rusting_roses for the beta. For the dai_stiho challenge.
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Snack Time
Carmela leaned back into her chair, sighing slightly as she stared off into the crowds around her. As usual, Crossings was full of activity, a rumble of noise filling the air as individuals from as many different species as could be imagined-and some that couldn't-crossed paths, each intent on their own journey.
Unlike most of those around her, Carmela's destination was, in fact, Crossings itself. She'd planned to meet up with Sker'ret and Filif to catch up; it had been more than six weeks since she'd seen the Rirhait, and nearly three months since Filif was last available. Unfortunately, Filif had been held up at home due to a last-minute emergency, and Sker'ret was dealing with an altercation between a couple of travelers whose baggage had decided to switch owners. Rather than attempt to approach the argument, she'd simply waved to get Sker'ret's attention briefly and pointed in the direction of one of the cafeteria-style restaurants, indicating she'd meet him there. She had time to spare, after all.
Wandering inside, Carmela had ordered a drink and gone to find a relatively out-of-the way table with human-compatible chairs. Sipping slowly at her guava juice, she watched the traffic go by, letting her mind wander.
"Um, excuse me."
Carmela glanced up. There was a human-or at least humanoid-man standing in front of her, carrying a tray of food: a tall, rather skinny guy with short dark brown hair, wearing a tweed jacket, a bowtie, and a red fez. He rocked back on his heels and grinned at her when she met his eyes. "Yeah?"
"Do you mind if I sit here? Just about everywhere else I can actually sit comfortably is full."
"Sure, go right ahead." Carmela waved him to the bench opposite hers.
"Great, thanks." Sitting down, the man dug into his meal of some deep-fried sticks of food and...was that custard he was dipping them in? "You wouldn't believe how long it's been since I got to stop by here for a bite. Some of the best custard anywhere, I'd highly recommend it."
Huh. So apparently it was custard. That naturally begged the question of what the fried stuff was, but she thought for a moment and decided that it was best not to ask. Humanoid didn't mean human palate, so it was probably best to err on the side of caution. "Maybe next time," Carmela said, smiling slightly. "I'm supposed to be meeting a friend later for dinner, and he said there's a new place he wanted to try."
"If it's the one down the way run by a couple of CatKin, I hope you like fish."
Carmela thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. "Sounds fine. I like fish."
"They do a delicious flay fish in garlic, and the stuffed gumblejack's not bad either. Though," he leaned in towards Carmela conspiratorially, winking, "the cook has been itching to make mole. All he needs is the chocolate." He sat back again, eyes twinkling
Carmela leaned forward herself, lifting an eyebrow slightly. "You've heard about that? The chocolate?"
"Course I have!" he raised an eyebrow and said, in the voice of one imparting a great secret. "In thirty years' time the Terileptil's pantheon will undergo a major upheaval as a little-known aspect of their goddess of commerce becomes the most popular deity around." Leaning back slightly and picking up his cup, he toasted Carmela. "Won't look much like you, though. Well, except for the hair."
"You're joking." Carmela wanted to laugh, but experience with Kit, the Callahan sisters, and assorted other wizards had taught her to never assume without the details.
"I'm not." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a camera phone. An Earth-style camera phone, no less. Perhaps he was more local than she'd thought. Opening it up, he pushed a few buttons and then passed it over to her. Taking it, Carmela looked down at the screen. A statue looked back at her, of a cloaked, vaguely feminine figure with a face reminiscent of the Alhambra's lions surrounded by dark brown frills. The figure's arms were out in front of it, laden with small bars. Squinting, Carmela could make out a walking lioness on the top bar, along with a faint inscription: Venezuelan Black.
"Huh". She handed the phone back to its owner. "So...what, she's the patron saint of chocolate merchants?"
"Not quite. More like the patron deity of risky business deals." He put the phone away and reapplied himself to his meal. "Though I suppose there are certain similarities."
Carmela thought about that for a minute, then shrugged, trying not to give her delight away. "Maybe."
Looking up, he snorted. "No maybe about it. I've heard of the things you get up to, Carmela Rodriguez. Mind you, most of it's brilliant, especially the way you've managed to get around issues with transporting the goods." He leaned forward. "That's where everyone else failed, you know?"
Carmela shrugged again. "My backpack seems to work fine."
He smiled conspiratorially. "But it's not just carrying bars of chocolate around in a backpack, is it?"
Carmela did her best to look innocent. She didn't think he was interested in the chocolate trade himself, but the less information she gave out the better. Kit would kill her if aliens trying to muscle in on her business showed up in their house.
His smile widened. "Oh come on. You've got Findala's particles all over your hair, and your backpack is covered in them. It's one of those self-contained stationary thingies, isn't it? No Huon particles, thank goodness, that would have been a disaster all around." Carmela blinked as he leaned in to sniff at her backpack. "Yep, Findala's particles with" he sniffed again "is that mesons? Oh, very, very clever."
Carmela blinked. "I think you've lost me."
He beamed. "It's an alpha-seven type of localized wormhole, isn't it? Beautiful work, even manages to compensate for the time shift and make sure you've got the right slipstream, except, of course-"
Carmela held up a hand. "Okay, I don't think I understood half of that, but it sounds vaguely like the fine print descriptions."
"Seriously, though, where'd you get it? Because you're human, Earth human, 21st century. Although," he mused, "If you're here, I suppose that means you're not a normal human, are you?"
Carmela shrugged. "I've got connections."
"Indeed you do. So, have you always used that little beauty?"
Happy for the change of subject, Carmela allowed herself to get drawn into a discussion of the benefits of various transportation tech. She spent most of it desperately trying to keep up as much as anything else, but it was fascinating to hear of places, many she'd never even heard of, even if all they really talked about was how they got around.
Twenty minutes later, Carmela and her companion looked up from the table and their discussion as a redheaded woman approached, weaving through the crowd. "Hey, you!"
"Ah, Amy! Amy, meet Carmela Rodriguez. Carmela, Amy Pond."
"Ignore him," Amy said, holding her hand out for Carmela to shake. "It's technically been Amy Williams for about three months now." She turned back to the man. "Right, I'm finished shopping. I'm just going to get Rory to put them all away for me before he drops something." She waved vaguely at someone behind her, and Carmela leaned around her to see a tall, skinny man, laden with packages that he was only barely keeping balanced in his arm.
"Alright then, let me just finish up here," he gestured at the remains of his meal, "and I'll be along in just a minute."
"No need to rush, we'll be there." Turning away, she waved over her shoulder. "Lovely to meet you, Carmela."
"You too." She turned back to her tablemate. "Friend of yours?"
"Apparently, I am her best friend." He sounded a little bemused by that, but pleased all the same. He scraped around the inside of the bowl with his last fried stick, scooping up the last of the custard. "Get someone to make you fish sticks and custard in the middle of the night and you're their friend for life."
"Fish sticks? Seriously?" He glanced up at Carmela, nodded, and took a bite. Anything else she might have said was cut off by a small commotion at the doorway as the staff suddenly began to pay noisy attention to whoever had walked in. Carmela caught a glance of shining carapace and a multitude of eyestalks between two of the waitstaff. Sker'ret had arrived.
"Ah, that'll be your friend then." He leaned back, twisting a little in his seat to watch as Sker'ret finally extricated himself from the overly-helpful staff and began to make his way to their table, stopping occasionally to respond to a greeting or question.
"Hey Sker." Carmela called once the Rirhait got within acceptable conversation range. "Everything settled?"
Sker'ret bobbed his head in an approximation of a human nod, which caused the rest of his body to ripple slightly. "Thankfully, it is. You weren't waiting too long?"
Carmela shook her head. "Nah. Grabbed a drink, did some people-watching, and found somebody to talk to." She gestured slightly at the man across the table from her...and then had to take a second look. He'd been cheery and animated throughout their discussion, but the way he was looking at Sker'ret now almost made him seem a different person. His face was serious and a little sad, and his eyes far too knowing.
"...brings you to Crossings?" She came back into the conversation just in time to catch the tag end of Sker'ret's question.
"Oh, not much really. Just passing through." The pensive look was gone, and he stood, cheerful smile back. "Well, I hate to eat and run-the running, I mean, not the eating-but I really do have to get going. I'll see you," he turned to Carmela, "before long, with any luck. Stationmaster," He turned back to Sker'ret. The serious face was back. "It might be a bit longer." Sketching a brief salute, he strode away from the pair and towards the exit.
"Huh." Carmela watched him go before turning to Sker'ret. "Well...should we get going?"
"Certainly," Sker'ret said. He sounded mildly confused, but led her to the exit.
"So where'd you have in mind?"
Sker'ret was distracted immediately by describing the new restaurant ("the most delicious smells") the owners and staff ("CatKin. It's very rare for them to leave their home worlds, the fact that they've settled here is nothing short of astonishing") and the menu ("fairly fish-heavy, I suppose, but they do some remarkable things with it, if the amount of diners they get is any indication").
Carmela caught one last glance of her new friend as he walked away across the open floor, going in a different direction. As she turned to follow Sker'ret, she saw him open a dark blue door and vanish behind it.
Later that night, after she'd gone home and sprawled on her bed, something occurred to her that made her sit up sharply. "Wait a minute! I never told him my name!"
Author: phoenix_laugh
Rating: G
Word Count: 1860
Prompt: 52. Doctor Who Crossover: Carmela takes lunch/tea/whatever with a time traveling alien.
Summary: Carmela spends a pleasant half-hour talking over a snack with a stranger.
Notes: Set Post-Wizard of Mars and between "The Curse of the Black Spot" and "The Doctor's Wife." Thanks to rusting_roses for the beta. For the dai_stiho challenge.
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Snack Time
Carmela leaned back into her chair, sighing slightly as she stared off into the crowds around her. As usual, Crossings was full of activity, a rumble of noise filling the air as individuals from as many different species as could be imagined-and some that couldn't-crossed paths, each intent on their own journey.
Unlike most of those around her, Carmela's destination was, in fact, Crossings itself. She'd planned to meet up with Sker'ret and Filif to catch up; it had been more than six weeks since she'd seen the Rirhait, and nearly three months since Filif was last available. Unfortunately, Filif had been held up at home due to a last-minute emergency, and Sker'ret was dealing with an altercation between a couple of travelers whose baggage had decided to switch owners. Rather than attempt to approach the argument, she'd simply waved to get Sker'ret's attention briefly and pointed in the direction of one of the cafeteria-style restaurants, indicating she'd meet him there. She had time to spare, after all.
Wandering inside, Carmela had ordered a drink and gone to find a relatively out-of-the way table with human-compatible chairs. Sipping slowly at her guava juice, she watched the traffic go by, letting her mind wander.
"Um, excuse me."
Carmela glanced up. There was a human-or at least humanoid-man standing in front of her, carrying a tray of food: a tall, rather skinny guy with short dark brown hair, wearing a tweed jacket, a bowtie, and a red fez. He rocked back on his heels and grinned at her when she met his eyes. "Yeah?"
"Do you mind if I sit here? Just about everywhere else I can actually sit comfortably is full."
"Sure, go right ahead." Carmela waved him to the bench opposite hers.
"Great, thanks." Sitting down, the man dug into his meal of some deep-fried sticks of food and...was that custard he was dipping them in? "You wouldn't believe how long it's been since I got to stop by here for a bite. Some of the best custard anywhere, I'd highly recommend it."
Huh. So apparently it was custard. That naturally begged the question of what the fried stuff was, but she thought for a moment and decided that it was best not to ask. Humanoid didn't mean human palate, so it was probably best to err on the side of caution. "Maybe next time," Carmela said, smiling slightly. "I'm supposed to be meeting a friend later for dinner, and he said there's a new place he wanted to try."
"If it's the one down the way run by a couple of CatKin, I hope you like fish."
Carmela thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. "Sounds fine. I like fish."
"They do a delicious flay fish in garlic, and the stuffed gumblejack's not bad either. Though," he leaned in towards Carmela conspiratorially, winking, "the cook has been itching to make mole. All he needs is the chocolate." He sat back again, eyes twinkling
Carmela leaned forward herself, lifting an eyebrow slightly. "You've heard about that? The chocolate?"
"Course I have!" he raised an eyebrow and said, in the voice of one imparting a great secret. "In thirty years' time the Terileptil's pantheon will undergo a major upheaval as a little-known aspect of their goddess of commerce becomes the most popular deity around." Leaning back slightly and picking up his cup, he toasted Carmela. "Won't look much like you, though. Well, except for the hair."
"You're joking." Carmela wanted to laugh, but experience with Kit, the Callahan sisters, and assorted other wizards had taught her to never assume without the details.
"I'm not." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a camera phone. An Earth-style camera phone, no less. Perhaps he was more local than she'd thought. Opening it up, he pushed a few buttons and then passed it over to her. Taking it, Carmela looked down at the screen. A statue looked back at her, of a cloaked, vaguely feminine figure with a face reminiscent of the Alhambra's lions surrounded by dark brown frills. The figure's arms were out in front of it, laden with small bars. Squinting, Carmela could make out a walking lioness on the top bar, along with a faint inscription: Venezuelan Black.
"Huh". She handed the phone back to its owner. "So...what, she's the patron saint of chocolate merchants?"
"Not quite. More like the patron deity of risky business deals." He put the phone away and reapplied himself to his meal. "Though I suppose there are certain similarities."
Carmela thought about that for a minute, then shrugged, trying not to give her delight away. "Maybe."
Looking up, he snorted. "No maybe about it. I've heard of the things you get up to, Carmela Rodriguez. Mind you, most of it's brilliant, especially the way you've managed to get around issues with transporting the goods." He leaned forward. "That's where everyone else failed, you know?"
Carmela shrugged again. "My backpack seems to work fine."
He smiled conspiratorially. "But it's not just carrying bars of chocolate around in a backpack, is it?"
Carmela did her best to look innocent. She didn't think he was interested in the chocolate trade himself, but the less information she gave out the better. Kit would kill her if aliens trying to muscle in on her business showed up in their house.
His smile widened. "Oh come on. You've got Findala's particles all over your hair, and your backpack is covered in them. It's one of those self-contained stationary thingies, isn't it? No Huon particles, thank goodness, that would have been a disaster all around." Carmela blinked as he leaned in to sniff at her backpack. "Yep, Findala's particles with" he sniffed again "is that mesons? Oh, very, very clever."
Carmela blinked. "I think you've lost me."
He beamed. "It's an alpha-seven type of localized wormhole, isn't it? Beautiful work, even manages to compensate for the time shift and make sure you've got the right slipstream, except, of course-"
Carmela held up a hand. "Okay, I don't think I understood half of that, but it sounds vaguely like the fine print descriptions."
"Seriously, though, where'd you get it? Because you're human, Earth human, 21st century. Although," he mused, "If you're here, I suppose that means you're not a normal human, are you?"
Carmela shrugged. "I've got connections."
"Indeed you do. So, have you always used that little beauty?"
Happy for the change of subject, Carmela allowed herself to get drawn into a discussion of the benefits of various transportation tech. She spent most of it desperately trying to keep up as much as anything else, but it was fascinating to hear of places, many she'd never even heard of, even if all they really talked about was how they got around.
Twenty minutes later, Carmela and her companion looked up from the table and their discussion as a redheaded woman approached, weaving through the crowd. "Hey, you!"
"Ah, Amy! Amy, meet Carmela Rodriguez. Carmela, Amy Pond."
"Ignore him," Amy said, holding her hand out for Carmela to shake. "It's technically been Amy Williams for about three months now." She turned back to the man. "Right, I'm finished shopping. I'm just going to get Rory to put them all away for me before he drops something." She waved vaguely at someone behind her, and Carmela leaned around her to see a tall, skinny man, laden with packages that he was only barely keeping balanced in his arm.
"Alright then, let me just finish up here," he gestured at the remains of his meal, "and I'll be along in just a minute."
"No need to rush, we'll be there." Turning away, she waved over her shoulder. "Lovely to meet you, Carmela."
"You too." She turned back to her tablemate. "Friend of yours?"
"Apparently, I am her best friend." He sounded a little bemused by that, but pleased all the same. He scraped around the inside of the bowl with his last fried stick, scooping up the last of the custard. "Get someone to make you fish sticks and custard in the middle of the night and you're their friend for life."
"Fish sticks? Seriously?" He glanced up at Carmela, nodded, and took a bite. Anything else she might have said was cut off by a small commotion at the doorway as the staff suddenly began to pay noisy attention to whoever had walked in. Carmela caught a glance of shining carapace and a multitude of eyestalks between two of the waitstaff. Sker'ret had arrived.
"Ah, that'll be your friend then." He leaned back, twisting a little in his seat to watch as Sker'ret finally extricated himself from the overly-helpful staff and began to make his way to their table, stopping occasionally to respond to a greeting or question.
"Hey Sker." Carmela called once the Rirhait got within acceptable conversation range. "Everything settled?"
Sker'ret bobbed his head in an approximation of a human nod, which caused the rest of his body to ripple slightly. "Thankfully, it is. You weren't waiting too long?"
Carmela shook her head. "Nah. Grabbed a drink, did some people-watching, and found somebody to talk to." She gestured slightly at the man across the table from her...and then had to take a second look. He'd been cheery and animated throughout their discussion, but the way he was looking at Sker'ret now almost made him seem a different person. His face was serious and a little sad, and his eyes far too knowing.
"...brings you to Crossings?" She came back into the conversation just in time to catch the tag end of Sker'ret's question.
"Oh, not much really. Just passing through." The pensive look was gone, and he stood, cheerful smile back. "Well, I hate to eat and run-the running, I mean, not the eating-but I really do have to get going. I'll see you," he turned to Carmela, "before long, with any luck. Stationmaster," He turned back to Sker'ret. The serious face was back. "It might be a bit longer." Sketching a brief salute, he strode away from the pair and towards the exit.
"Huh." Carmela watched him go before turning to Sker'ret. "Well...should we get going?"
"Certainly," Sker'ret said. He sounded mildly confused, but led her to the exit.
"So where'd you have in mind?"
Sker'ret was distracted immediately by describing the new restaurant ("the most delicious smells") the owners and staff ("CatKin. It's very rare for them to leave their home worlds, the fact that they've settled here is nothing short of astonishing") and the menu ("fairly fish-heavy, I suppose, but they do some remarkable things with it, if the amount of diners they get is any indication").
Carmela caught one last glance of her new friend as he walked away across the open floor, going in a different direction. As she turned to follow Sker'ret, she saw him open a dark blue door and vanish behind it.
Later that night, after she'd gone home and sprawled on her bed, something occurred to her that made her sit up sharply. "Wait a minute! I never told him my name!"