She watches them have sex on her floor. Her Doctor and whoever this now. She doesn't bother to remember anymore. The intercourse her Doctor and this person are sharing a squishy bodily limited sort of thing over and over again. This person will leave, her Doctor will move on. There will be another humanoid maybe her Doctor will do this sort of thing again.
Somewhere inside of her. On a bed, a floor, against a wall or tumbling in the grass of in a few grassy rooms. He has so many times. And they've watched the humanoid leave. They always do. It's better that way, she muses. The Doctor knows and she knows that THIS is only real relationship that is true and permanent. No sentiments exchanged, no amount of that sort of 'love' or lust matters. It's all squishy, messy, and contained. They are done, the TARDIS notices. The Doctor is covering the humanoid female with his coat, her Doctor always has one. He puts his arms around the humanoid female.
All the sticky, squishy, messy, flesh pushing against flesh is done for now. So ephemeral! He knows this. Soon the humanoid female exhausted from the effort of mere physical love falls asleep. She has done SO MUCH more for him and whoever he he happened to take along with him. Some of whom he stuck his genitals in, some he didn't.
But that shouldn't matter. In the end, it's the TARDIS and her time lord.
It's just her and her Doctor again.
He must never forget whoever he puts in HER, they don't really matter. Whoever he goes inside of himself, they don't matter.
She gives an extra deep and meaningful thrum to get the message across.
The Doctor sighs and gives a faint smile: "I know old girl, I know. I love you." She purrs under him. "But I love them too."
