"I can't decide which I like better," Rose mused, holding up two other dresses in front of the one she was already wearing.
"Neither can I," the brunette shopgirl said, with an infectious giggle, as she peeked over the top of the fitting room door. Her attention was focused on the two men seated outside, waiting with varied degrees of patience. One was younger, and classically, undeniably handsome. The other was older, brooding and dressed in a battered black leather jacket, but there was just something about him that kept drawing her gaze.
Rose noticed where the other girl's attention had wandered and she grinned in response.
"So, which is it?" the sales girl prompted.
"Rose, we're going to be late!" the older one groused in a Northern burr.
"Him," Rose whispered, just barely audible.
"So the other one's fair game?"
"His name's Jack. I'll introduce you, if ya like," Rose promised.
"Blimey. You travel with those two, and you're getting a dress for the embassy reception…are you sure your name in't Cinderella?"
Rose studied the other girl's pretty pixie-like features and cute red dress. The small reading glasses that kept sliding down her nose made her look adorably brainy. It would be nice for Jack to have his own date…
"Nope. I'm just Rose. And you?"
"Clarissa."
The Doctor shifted irritably in his seat. "We do have a rather large wardrobe aboard the ship, you know. No need for all this nonsense."
"Doctor," Jack said, in a slightly exasperated tone. "What did Rose do for a living back on Earth?"
"She worked in a shop."
"And did you ever stop to think that she might enjoy being on the other end of the process?"
"No."
"Trust me, she's enjoying this. Immensely."
"I'm glad someone is."
Both men looked up as the door to the fitting room opened.
"'Bout time," the Doctor grumped.
"Doctor, Jack," Rose said in a wheedling tone, "I can't decide which dress is best." She twirled in front of them, modeling a stunning, deep blue cocktail dress.
"You look great, sweetheart," Jack said with a broad grin that faded a bit when the Doctor ground the heel of his boot into Jack's toes.
"But Clarissa here thinks this one would be nice, too," Rose added, gesturing the petite brunette forward.
"This one would look wonderful with her eyes," the shopgirl said enthusiastically, holding up a lavender dress.
"I like the blue," the Doctor said shortly. "Can we go now?"
"I like 'em both," Jack stated, winking at Clarissa.
"Rose. We are late. The reception's started by now."
"You're taking all the fun out of this, Mister Grumpy," Clarissa scolded.
"Fun?" the Doctor demanded incredulously, crossing his arms. "This isn't fun. This is bloody torture!"
"Pardon my friend," Jack said smoothly. "And please, let me make amends for his rotten manners. We're going to what promises to be a very stuffy embassy reception, but I'm certain that with the right company, it might just be bearable. Whaddaya say?"
Clarissa blushed, and sneaked a sidewise glance at Rose, who nodded encouragement.
"I -"
Just then, a thunderous explosion sounded from outside.
"Jack, let's see what happened. Stay here," the Doctor instructed Rose tersely.
The two men returned a few minutes later, looking grim.
"I'm afraid the embassy reception has been cancelled, ladies," Jack announced.
"On account of somebody just blew up the embassy?" Rose guessed.
"Yep," the Doctor confirmed.
"So, if we'd gotten there on time -"
"We'd be toast," Jack confirmed.
"Get the dress anyway," the Doctor said kindly. "It looks lovely on you. We'll find another party for you to wear it, after we get this sorted."
She smiled at him, and reached up to kiss his cheek.
"Are you ready to make your purchase?" a shopgirl inquired hopefully.
"Thanks," Rose said quickly. "Clarissa was helping me. I'd like her to get credit for the sale."
"I'm sorry? There's no one named Clarissa who works here."
"But she was right here," Rose said, peering around in confusion, but Clarissa was no where to be seen.
Author's Notes: Take one prompt from one of my own stories,
"Sucker for a pretty face is it? You and Rose should compare notes!" he grumbled.
"Who says we didn't?" Clara bit her lip, thinking that perhaps she shouldn't have said that.
add the concept introduced in the foreword of "Summer Falls," that Clara's echoes did not all die in the process of saving the Doctor, and you get this little bit of happy fluff.