for writers_muses: RP Prompt for notquiteawidow

[rude_not_ginger]

Your muse has just decided to reveal something about themselves that they have never told another living soul to a friend or close confidant. This particular secret leaves the other party stunned. Write it or roleplay it out, don't be afraid to tread into dangerous waters.In the end, of course, he would blame Donna. Because it was clearly her

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[notquiteawidow]

Donna took a moment to answer the Doctor, busy nursing the hypervodka to her lips. She couldn't imagine what he meant by 'good idea', though. Distantly, she recalled the warning on her metabolism. That conversation was blurry now, much like everything else in her vision. Was that what he meant?

"It was a great idea. We both needed a break anyway." she said, setting down her glass with the smile of someone only sort of aware of her surroundings. "You were right, though. This place is fantastic. You don't get pubs like this back home. Especially ones with Hypervodkas." Then she paused. "Drinking alien alcohol. First time there."

[rude_not_ginger]

That was ridiculously funny, actually.

"I could take you to the stars of Paterine Six and you could sit under a rain of starshine, instead you're drinking hypervodka in a pub. I'm a horrible influence on people, I should've told you 'Paterine Six! And nowhere else!'"

He swallowed another shot of hypervodka and shook his head as the alcohol burned down his throat.

"Oh, you're old enough to make your own decisions on what you can and can't do, I think."

[notquiteawidow]

Donna nudged him, feeling wonderfully playful.

"This is one of my better decisions, even." And it was, too. Not many could say they'd taken a break from time travel for a drink in space. "Could always go to Paterine Six afterwards. You've got a handy blue box for that."

Of course, Donna had a feeling that she'd be spending the next day or so in bed with a massive hangover. But for all she knew, there were magical hangover cures in the future on whatever planet they were on. "What sort of place is this, anyway?" she asked.

[rude_not_ginger]

"It's certainly not a bad one," the Doctor grinned madly and pushed her another shot. "And this...uh, this is a bar in the Pseudo Gamma Quadrant. Usually reserved for poets and artists."

A few military-type men passed by their table and the Doctor's eyebrows knitted together.

"Course, it is Saturday. The TARDIS is probably missing." And another shot!