For HalfaMoon; I wish Jo Grant was really riding to our rescue. 100 words.
"Are you sure about this, Gran?"
Jo Jones, née Grant, let out a fondly exasperated sigh. "You worry too much, sweetheart."
"If you worried a bit more, I wouldn't have to. They've been arresting protesters, did you know that?"
"It wouldn't be my first time in handcuffs," Jo said, and her granddaughter went red. "Not like that; I told you I studied escapology."
It was times like this that she wished she could tell her family about what she'd really done during her time with U.N.I.T. She'd faced down the Master; President Trump didn't stand a chance.
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