The Grand Ballroom of the Heartic gallery was very grand indeed, the Doctor had decided.
He sauntered straight up the official looking man with a large clipboard, which he seemed to be checking names off as he collected invitations from the guests; the man stared dully at the Doctor through his purple corneas.
"Name?" His voice was as deep as a bass drum.
"John Smith." The Doctor replied casually.
The man rolled his oddly coloured eyes and glanced down at the list.
"You're not on the list."
"Ah, yes, I thought that would happen. Let me see, I have my invitation around here… somewhere…." The Doctor said, digging in his pockets.
Two minutes later, the poor doorman was utterly confused; the man in front of him had managed to pull a broken yoyo and its missing piece of string (which caused his face to crumple slightly before he deposited them into his hands with a "Hold on to that."), a jammy dodger, a set of odd, misshapen keys and a piece of paper with a phone number on it signed M. Monroe out of his pockets before he found his invitation.
"Always the last place you look isn't it?" He grinned, without letting go of it, he showed the doorman his invitation.
There was an awkward moment in which neither of the two aliens moved. Until, the doorman shuffled. "My apologies Mr Smith, please carry on."
The Doctor tucked the psychic paper back into a pocket, followed quickly by the rest of the items he had pulled out earlier. Seeing the look of confusion return on the doorman's face, the Doctor quickly explained.
"Pockets, they're bigger on the inside."
The doorman seemed it best just to nod at the Doctor, unsure of how to reply except "I see…"
The Doctor patted the man's back as he wandered past; just as the doorman was about to great the next guest, the Doctor tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hello, me again. John Smith. I was just wondering, could I get a look at that guest list?"
Before the doorman could reply the Doctor already had the clipboard out of his hands and was scanning through the names.
"Hmm, get a few banana daiquiris in her and we'll have a party! Oh wait I know him! But he might not have met me yet." He looked up at the bewildered doorman. "Time travel, it's tricky, don't do it. What am I saying? You'll love it, well maybe not you, but you should try it. But you shouldn't really."
He was about to push the clipboard back into the doorman's arms when a name at the bottom caught his eye; it was scribbled in pen as if they were a last minute addition, and in quite familiar handwriting. Seeing the check by the name the Doctor turned around to face the on-going party inside the ballroom; there were up to three hundred guests chatting in groups within the large room, all different species from across the galaxy. The Doctor checked the name again before handing the clipboard back and striding toward the party.
"Well, this should be good."