"I'm sorry, Irving," said Benny seriously. "This romantic thing you're trying to force us into just isn't working."

His face drooped comically, and she got the impression that she had just done something along the lines of kicking a puppy. "But Bernice-"

"I really am sorry," she continued, patting his arm. "But seriously. I'm a time-travelling archaeologist and you're an occasionally-genocidal Time Lord whose alternate timeline self killed my husband. I just don't think that this is going to work out…"

"Fine," he said brightly. "I have another idea. I believe you humans call it a 'threesome'?"

"Not a chance."