A/N: Ok, Ok, I know that I already have 2 stories up, but this was bouncing around my head and I really wanted to have a DW story out there. So, yeah. All that jazz about I only own anything you don't recognise. And how all the DW stuff is owned by BBC. If anyone takes Gail without my permission, though, and someone might just go missing. Not a threat, a promise. So, YEAH! Ok, THACA out. On to the story!

Gail sighed as the annoying drunkard at the bar called for another round.

"That's it for tonight, Charlie." She told him as she wiped down the surface next to him. "I'm cuttin' ye off."

He grumbled something and left. The owner of the bar, Greg, came up and asked if she was ready to close down. She simply said that she'd wait for the man in the corner booth the leave, and that he could head home. Greg thanked her and headed home to his family.

"Oi!" She called out to the man. "Are you gonna want anything more than that water? 'Cause I can get ye a beer. On the house!"

"I'll be alright. I'm just waiting in a friend." He said in a polite British accent.

She nodded, but muttered to herself, "Ye Brits. Always takin' ye time."

She could hear the man quietly chuckle and realised she had said it louder than she leaned to. But he was laughing, so he must have not taken offense. Then, the door opened and another man in a long WW II coat walked in. She had moved over to clean off some tables, only slightly to snoop in on their conversation.

"Hello there, Jack. How are you?" The first man said.

"I'm fine Doc, how about you?" The new man said with an American accent.

"I'm fine. Now, I assume you understand why I called to meet up?" The Brit said.

"Yeah. And I'm sorry about Rose, by the way." The American replied.

By this point in time, she had moved to clean other tables as to not look suspicious. By the time she had moved back to the bar, they seemed to be making small talk.

"Ye boys done yet?" She called over to them. "Or are ye gonna order a drink?"

The American smiled flirtatiously, saying, "I'll have a Whiskey."

"And anything for ye, Brit?"

"No... No, I'm still okay with my water."

"Alright, then."

She filled up a glass of Whiskey and brought it over to the only occupied table in the bar before placing it in front of Mr. Billowy Military Coat.

"If yer done talkin', once ye finish up yer drink, can ye leave? I still gotta get home tonight."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Captain Jack Harkness, by the way." He said in a flirtatious manner.

She smirked. "And I really don't care."

As she left, she could hear the Brit chortling. She rolled her eyes at his childish behavior before returning to her work, cleaning glasses and reorganizing bottles.

"So", Jack started, "You're Irish?"

"No! What gave it away? Was it the fact I have red hair? Or how about that I work in an Irish Pub? Ooh! Better yet, the fact that I have an Irish accent?!"

"Jack, it was a horrible way to break the ice. That was like trying to break ice with a toothpick!"

"Hey", Jack protested, "I've done much more impressive things with a toothpick than break ice, Doc!"

'Doc' sighed. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Oi! Brit! I never caught yer name!"

"Oh, just The Doctor! What's yours?"

"Gail. Gail McClain. What are ye a doctor of?"

"Oh, lots of things."

"Real specific there, Doctor."

"Specific's my middle name!"

"Well then! Mine's just Lynn."

"Your name is Gail Lynn McClain?"

"Yeh, got anythin' about it?"

"No! I think it's quite nice!" The Doctor said.

"Are ye done yet?" She asked.

Captain Jack nodded and they both left. After cleaning their table, Gail left, too. She walked out of the bar, locking the door behind her when she heard a gargling voice behind her say, "Not so fast, little girl."

She turned around to view a large green... Thing. So, she did what her Athair* had taught her, and she punched it in the face.

A/N: Ok, so:

Athair=Father in Irish

Anywho, I hope you like it. R&R and all that. No mean stuff, because I'll get angry and then I might just start to rant. I do that a lot. It happens. I don't even mean to, it just happens. It might be a nervous thing, or maybe when I just get annoyed. I don't like it when people tell at me about my ranting because its normal for me. Sorry... I was doing it again. Bye! THACA out.