It's an all right job, this one is. Donna's been here for a week now and the work isn't too hard, just enough her to keep from going bonkers with boredom but not so much that she feels weighed down by it. They mostly have her sorting mail, fetching coffee and running errands. She's not qualified to do much more, she's told, not yet. Security clearances and all. Her grandfather's going on about how he thinks it's some sort of top secret government something or other and all yeah, it's government all right, but Donna reckons it's not quite as interesting as all that. She's been there for five days, after all, and the most interesting thing she's crossed paths with is that woman on the third floor that she swears used to be a man.
And John Smith, of course. Skinny weird bloke who's always making googly eyes at her but he's probably the best part of it all. He makes it interesting, if nothing else. Always chatting her up. Asking her what she thinks of things - weird things, admittedly, but he listens to what she has to say. It's been so long since anyone has shown any interest in her that Donna's not likely to argue on that note, even if he isn't normally her type.
"Lunch," he says, cornering her in the hallway. "Just lunch. Let me buy you lunch."
She looks down at the stack of papers in her arm. "Do I look like I've got time for lunch just now? One of these to every office floors six through seventeen, I'll be lucky if I'm done by Christmas."
"You've got to have time for lunch," he insists. He grins at her, hands stuck in his pockets. "My treat."
"I bought my lunch," she says. She's not even sure why she's fighting an act of kindness but it's second nature to her. There's no conviction behind it; she fully expects to be persuaded.
"Then a snack. Just a snack. Let me buy you a snack. Come on, everybody eats. They've got these little cakes at the pastry shop down the street, they're brilliant. And cookies! Pistachio walnut like you won't believe."
They spend her lunch break an hour later in an office. He starts to tell her about the other break room, the one for real employees and how it's got a 60 inch television set and a cappuccino maker and warmed hand towels and it's ten minutes before she realizes that he's having her on.
"You just like to watch me wind up, don't you?" She says, popping him in the shoulder.
"Yep," he grins, wide and unabashed. "I really do."
It makes her blush, for some crazy reason, just the way he's looking at her. "So," she clears her throat. "You gonna ask me out or what?"
"W-what?" His eyes go very wide and he looks like he might tip over. "I wasn't-"
"Oh, of course you were," she rolls her eyes. "Well, come on, out with it."
"Right, r-right." He says and just keeps looking at her until she begins to doubt herself. "Yeah, that's. Right."
She sits up a little bit straighter, outwardly full of bravado while inwardly she recounts all the things he's said to her and tries to decide if she's horribly misread the situation.
"Right!" He says, one more time. "Dinner tonight, then?
"Yeah, guess so," Donna says, relaxing again. She shrugs as if it doesn't matter at all. "Got nothing better to do."
"Do you like to travel?" He asks, swiping a finger across the thickly iced top of a cupcake and then licking it off with relish. She watches him with a little grin on his face, thinking of her mate Lysa's little boy and how he does the same.
She shrugs. "Do I look like a lottery winner? Most I can do to keep a job, much less save any money for a holiday."
"But would you?" He asks. "If you could. If you really could just, just leave it all, would you?"
"Yeah," she says. "Yeah... there's not much to keep me here, is there?"
He smiles at her and takes her hand. His fingers are long and thin and warm. "That's what I was hoping you'd say."
"Why, you gonna invite me on a trip?" She asks without really thinking. And then, "Ooh. Bit too forward, yeah?"
"Like that's ever been a problem of yours," he smirks.
"Oi!" She bumps shoulders with him, her fingers still tangled in his. She feels warm, lit from within in a way that for once in her life doesn't involve alcohol. She muses, "Dunno what it is about you."
"What about what about me?" He asks, looking down at her while she looks back up at him. She has a strange premonition that this date is going to be unlike any other date she's ever been on.
"Just something different. I'll figure it out, one of these days."
"Yeah, I reckon you just might," he says, and gives her one of those toe-tingling smiles of his. "Donna Noble, you just might."