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“Miss Shaw.”
“Doctor Shaw, Sir.” Liz arched an eyebrow.
“Explain this,” Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart gestured at a sheaf of paper covered in the Doctor’s odd loopy scrawl.
“The Doctor’s expense report?”
“Kindly inform him someone else will take care of it in the future,” the Brigadier left leaving Liz to peruse the papers, which contained a precise account, down to the last teacup and spool of wire, of every item irreparably damaged by the science department since the Doctor’s arrival. Liz couldn’t decide if this was a joke or a misunderstanding. Either way, the Doctor would be pleased with the result.