"I can't believe I'm standing in a supermarket," the Doctor said, shuddering, "It's so…domestic." Rose threw him a look, and pushed a plastic shopping basket into his hands.
"You wanted brownies, so we're just here to get the mix. Then we can go, yeah?" she said, and he shuddered again, trying to hand the basket back to her.
"If I had known we'd come here, I wouldn't have said anything," he told her childishly, sticking his hands as far as they would go into his suit pockets, so she couldn't force the basket back on him. Rose sighed, and grabbed his arm with her free hand.
"Come on," she said, pulling him along, "Aisle 17, I think." She glanced up at the overhanging sign, which read:
Aisle 17
Cake Mix
Frosting
Boxed Dinners
Mashed Potatoes
He stopped walking, quickly enough to make Rose also, stumble to a stop. She opened her mouth indignantly, but the Doctor was too quick.
"It doesn't say anything about brownie mix on that sign, Rose," he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"It's with the cake mix and such," she said matter-of-factly.
"No," said the Doctor, "The sign says what's in the aisle. It doesn't say one thing about brownies."
"What are you going on about?" Rose asked, with a slight smile.
"They obviously don't have any brownie mix," the Doctor continued, as though he'd not heard her, "Told you we shoulda stopped in a different century," he finished smugly, and Rose laughed.
"Doctor, they can't list everything on the sign. That'd just be ridiculous," she pointed out.
"Well they should," he argued stubbornly.
"Oh yeah? And the brand names too, I suppose?" she joked.
"Exactly! And how much there is in stock!" he agreed enthusiastically.
"And the price, yeah?" Rose laughed, continuing the charade. The Doctor gave her a serious look.
"Now Rose, that'd just be ridiculous."
