Hello, beautiful Whovians! Let's keep it together until the Christmas special.

Here's a little story for my One True Pairing, and I hope Moffat is a wonderful man and he gives River an exit just as wonderful and excruciating as the Ponds received.

AIIIEEEEEGUH! AIIEEEEEGUH!

The alarms of Stormcage Prison rattled the bars on the cells, combining with the constant pounding of the rain outside to give all the inmates a headache.

"All guards in Ward 26 to Cell 1, I repeat, all guards to Cell 1," the warden droned over the intercom to the soldiers covering their ears. "There has been a disturbance in Cell 1 from an unrecognized source. Prepare your firearms but do not shoot until directed by a superior officer."

"Ehh? Wha'd he say?" Prisoner 713 said.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say Song was escaping again."

"Nahhh, tha's impossible. Who knows where she is, anyway? Aww, that Song. Always up for a game of strip Gellesian poker during exercise hours."

The prisoners continued to chatter over the piercing alarm and pouring rain, as they were used to, and the guards rushed to Cell 1, the most heavily guarded cell in all of Stormcage.

The soldiers surrounded the little barred room, guns ready to fire, but some of the new soldiers were caught off guard by a sight absent of a complicated plasma-detonator or other expensive and highly dangerous weapon.

In fact, the only thing in Cell 1 that looked out of the ordinary was a bright blue box of unknown origin—and a very confused looking man tapping on the bars in front of him with a sort of fascination.

"Excuse me, gents," said the peculiar man, straightening his red bow tie, "where might I find Professor River Song?"

"We have no record of you on the universal files," the prison warden sighed after quickly tapping on his keyboard. "You don't show up anywhere. Do you want to explain how exactly you got into Stormcage—and why you even wanted to in the first place?"

The man smiled. "I like to make visits. I'm a rather friendly person. Well, not exactly, not really, I just have…friends. Maybe friends are cool. I could use more friends. Would you like to be my friend?"

The warden shook the confusion from his head. "I'm sorry? No, look—you can't break into Stormcage! This is the most heavily guarded place in the universe, and furthermore, according to our records, which are never wrong, you don't exist—and furthermore, how did you get your hands on a Type 40 TARDIS?"

"I borrowed it."

"You didn't answer my other questions."

"You didn't ask any other questions."

"I didn't?"

"No." The peculiar man smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Now could you possibly uncuff me from this chair? This was just a simple mistake. I'm rather horrible with directions, and if you let me go I'll be on my way and I won't bother you again."
The warden tried to refrain from yelling; he could feel that vein throbbing in his forehead and his doctor had warned him about his high blood pressure. "I'm afraid I can't do that! I could have you arrested for breaking and entering—and—and—"

"Oh—about that—" the man's eyes lit up with remembrance, "check my right coat pocket! I assure you the registration is all in order, all my permits are up to date."

The perplexed warden nodded to a young guard, who pulled a shabby looking wallet out of the pocket and opened it. "It says, 'Free Fried Ice Cream for a Week at Jerry's Galactic Snack Shack.' "

The man in the bow tie couldn't hide a smile. "Does it now? That's annoying. Show it to the good warden, eh?"

He glanced at the paper inside the wallet. "It doesn't say anything about ice cream. It's the papers for cell inspection."

"That's it, that's me. I love a good cell as much as the next guy!" the man said. "All right, then, you caught me. I was just checking out your best accommodations and CLEARLY you have a huge problem on your hands if a man wearing suspenders can get into your best-guarded area. I will certainly be having a word with your boss, that is, unless," the man said with a grin, leaning over the warden's desk as the guards released him from the chair, "you could provide me with a bit of information. Where is Prisoner 1?"

It's the season of giving-please fill my heart with joy and give me a nice rating or review, maybe even a nice fic request. I'm in a writing mood, lovelies!