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The planet they had landed on was populated by not-quite-humans, the way so many seemed to be. Rose wondered idly if humans had just settled in many different places, adapting slightly to match, or if the same basic structure had just evolved over and over with minor variations, and asked as much of Jack and the Doctor.
Jack favored a single origin: “What are the chances of a thousand planets creating the same template? Besides, humans are very–”
“--flexible, ha-ha.” The Doctor rolled his eyes at the too-obvious innuendo. “You’d be surprised. You live long enough, you see patterns repeating all sorts of places you wouldn’t expect. Universe is a big, funny sort of business. ‘Sides which, they aren’t human-shaped–”
“They’re Time Lord shaped.” Rose interrupted him with a giggle. To the Doctor’s sullen frown, she continued. “Just thought it was interesting, is all. Bit surprised, Jack: thought you’d be in favor of–”
“--Reproduction?” Jack winced at the pun. “Rosie, please.”
Nearby, one spectator passed some local currency to his friend, disgusted. “Told you it would be all three of them,” the more fortunate local beamed, elbowing her companion.
“All three of us what?” Rose cocked her head to one side.
“Would get married, of course.” She blinked at Rose. “We don’t make a big fuss of it here, but you do have to finish each other’s sentences in public for it to be legally binding.”
“Married?” “Each other’s sentences?” “Legally binding?” chirped Rose, the Doctor, and Jack in turn.
“It’s supposed to ensure married couples are mentally compatible,” explained the loser of the bet. “And keep interruptions in polite discourse to a minimum. Though there was one notorious incident where the mayor and the junior senator started hate-fucking right in the middle of the Grand Forum.” He sighed. “Newlyweds: what can you do?”
“Newlyweds, huh?” Jack echoed, an unmistakable edge beneath his voice.
“Suppose this entitles us to a honeymoon?” Rose added.
The Doctor sighed and relented. “Reckon I could be talked into that.”