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Bill nudged the not-quite-subtly staring young woman in the uniform of a local delivery service. “If, uh, you’d like, I could say hi to him for you.” She glanced pointedly over at where the Doctor sat, opening the parcel. “Or,” she coughed, “if you’d prefer, I’d happily buy you a drink.”
“Bill! Stop flirting with the delivery girl! She’s on the job.” The Doctor squinted up at them. “Was I supposed to sign for something?”
“N-no. Just got–distracted–logging the delivery.” Her deep brown eyes fluttered closed for an instant, then: “Maybe I could use that drink, after all.”
***
“What’s he up to? The D– Professor?”
Blimey, you have got it bad, Bill thought. Unless… “Why? Did you used to know him?”
“Something like that. He, uh, doesn’t remember me.”
Bill snorted. “His loss. Though I didn’t think he was going senile.”
“It’s…been a long time. For both of us, I imagine.” Bill raised a skeptical eyebrow at that; the petite woman was no older than her early thirties (and she was very good at pegging the ages of women she was attracted to). “You might be surprised,” she continued by way of explanation. Then, gears visibly clicking into place, she pressed on. “We used to travel together.”
Bill’s eyes widened. “In the box?” she whispered, an excited grin crowding her mouth. She’d never gotten the Doctor to open up about the time before he had met her - that was locked up like his stupid vault.
A rueful smile crossed the stranger’s lips. “You too, huh? You’ve got the look. Young…hungry…pretty. I saw an archive of them, once.”
“Why don’t you come with us, then? Plenty of room in the TARDIS.”
The stranger fiddled with a coaster, inflating the amount of her attention it was consuming. “We’re…not supposed to see each other anymore.”
Bill raised an eyebrow. “Sounds more complicated than a restraining order or angry parents.” She chewed her bottom lip for a moment. “Want to tell me about it?”
“Maybe.” The stranger considered her empty glass. “Get us another round, first?”