// FUCK IT ALL.

“YOU KNOW IT’S a ‘him’ though, so you’ve done some kind of research.” Had they stumbled upon an undercover reporter? That’d be kind of cool - never expect to meet them in real life, like they only belonged in crime thriller novels. Another glance is spared the Doctor’s way - innocuous, lookin’ at the menu without really looking, Bill bets. Probably keepin’ an eye out for someone.

Or something.

“I’m callin’ it, they’re a rich alien. Each person at the table is the candidate for a future body suit.” Bill grinned.

“I could take y’over to the table if you want, not like the - my grandad would mind, he’s a bit of a nutter. Smart, but a nutter.”

                   ❝ ——THAT’S  INSANE.    ❞   Fucking  insane.  Honestly  she  didn’t  know  why  she  was  wasting time  with  this  girl  &  her  grandfather.  Out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye  she  could  see  him  still  there,  holding  one  of  the  plates  up  to  the  light  like  he’d  never  seen  one  in  his  life.  Yeah,  DEFINITELY   time  to  get  up  &  get  the  fuck  out  of  here ........ on  the  other  hand,  that  offer  of  a  place  at  the  table  was  tempting.  Perhaps  she  could be  PERSUADED  to  stay.    ❝What’s  in  it  for  you?  ❞ Who  were  these  people? 

“YEAH? GUESS I’M a local chef at an affordable diner for dedicated learners & not just some dinner lady at a Uni.” Bill grinned, eyes twinkling with amusement. It helps distract from the menu she’d took a quick glance at when coming inside. Who paid that much for a glass of wine? A bottle ( or three ) of the stuff was cheaper in an over-priced corner shop!

Eyebrows raise at the question and Bill turns in her seat, groaning. “What’s he bloody up to now?” Muttered to self before she looks at the woman again, curious. “Thing is - he forgets about the little things.”

“Why’d you know that table’s reserved anyway? Doesn’t look like your table, and I doubt the man at the front gives away customer reservation details away willy-nilly. You a spy or somethin’?”

                    DESPITE  HER  BEST  EFFORTS  a  faint  laugh  escaped  her,  twisting  it  into  a  scoff  before  it  could  get  too  far  away  from  her,   ❝  Do  I  look  like  I  have  the  time  to  run  around  playing  espionage  games ? .... That  table’s   ALWAYS  reserved.❞ She  paused  gesturing  offhandedly,   ❝   I’ve  never  met  him.  He  never  shows.  Always  books  that  same  table  at  this  time  on  a  Friday  evening  & has  someone  else  turn  up  in  his  place.  Ask  yourself  this ,  who  the  hell  permanently  books  a  table  in  a  place  like  this  &  pays  for  a  different  person’s  meal  every  week?   Someone  who  has  a  HELL   of  a  lot  of  money  to  waste  that’s  who .... ❞  She  cast  the  table  a  disdainful  look  before  settling  back  down  in  her  OWN  chair,   ❝ ..... I  wish  he’d  be  so  generous  as  to  send  some  of  it  my  way.  ❞