Rose knew a potential boyfriend when she saw one. And brown-suit guy definitely fit the bill.
He looked so different from everyone else in the casino's bar she almost had to laugh. She thought she had seen it all, really - poor people pretending to be millionaires, middle-aged tourists losing money left and right, drunken bachelorette parties, drunken bachelor parties, drunken wedding parties, drunken people about to go get married to strangers, card sharks, idiots who have no idea what they're doing - you can always categorize the people who come to visit Las Vegas. But this guy was different. He came in quietly and walked sedately over to the bar, eyebrows raised above his dorky but strangely adorable glasses, seeming a bit bemused at all the noise and chaos around him. At first Rose dismissed him, continuing on with her work of greet a customer, flirt a bit, make the drink, flirt a bit, get the next customer. But as she worked her way down the counter she found her eyes drawn more and more to the odd, quiet man in the brown suit and nerdy glasses.
When she finally reached him, he beamed up at her.
"Hello," he said. Something about his gorgeous English accent and the absolute sincerity of his smile surprised a genuine smile out of her in return, instead of her usual lasciviously flirtatious one she put on for male customers.
"What can I do for you?" she asked, conscious that she was blushing but hoping that the bluish strobe lights from the nearby dance floor would cover it up.
"Don't suppose you have tea or coffee, do you?" he inquired.
Rose threw back her head and laughed.
"God, no. How green are you?" she asked. She could see his embarrassed blush even in the terrible lighting. Immediately remorseful, she patted his hand and said, "Give me a moment. I'll take you somewhere they have what you're looking for."
She went into the kitchen/supply room behind the back wall of the bar.
"Wilson?" she called, hanging up her apron and looking for the night manager. "Wilson, I'm going home. Shareen is already out at the bar."
"G'wan, Rose, do what y'want," came his reply.
"I always do," she said cheekily, slipping out again.
Brown-suit man was sitting where she had left him, waiting patiently. Rose came out from behind the bar and beckoned to him.
"Come on, she said, taking his hand and leading him through the crowded club.
"But don't you have to work?" he asked, fighting to be heard above the boisterous customers.
"Nah, my shift's over," she replied as they reached the doors and pushed out into the bright lights and chilly November air of the Strip.
The bustling road, crowded with casinos and burning with neon lights, lit up the night sky, extinguishing the light from the stars. Rose would never admit it to any of her friends, but every day at the end of her shift she would go out, look into the sky, and mourn the damage done by light pollution. She missed the stars.
"So where are you taking me?" the man asked.
"There's a diner that none of the tourists go to. It's out a ways - bit of a hole in the wall, really - but it's worth it." A thought occurred to her. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"Smith," he replied, holding out his hand for her to shake. "John Smith - well, Doctor John Smith, technically, but you can call me John if you like."
Rose looked him up and down. "You don't look much like a John," she decided. "You look very much more like a 'Doctor'."
"Just 'Doctor'?" he asked, then shrugged. "I rather like it. 'The Doctor'," he repeated, adjusting his tie and looking just a bit smug. "Very dignified. And what should I call you?"
"Rose Tyler," she told him as they turned a corner.
"Nice to meet you, Rose," he said.
They walked along for a while in silence, but it was a companionable silence, not an awkward one. It had been a while since Rose had felt comfortable just walking with someone. Shareen usually filled the air with incessant chatter, and Rose's mum was even worse. But this Doctor fellow seemed to enjoy just being quiet.
"Where in England are you from?" she asked him, purely out of idle curiosity.
"Sort of all over, really," he replied. "I moved around a lot growing up. Mostly near London, though. Where were you born?"
"London, actually," she informed him, much to his surprise. "Lost my accent when we moved here, though, because of my job. My boss told me that no one wants to be served by a barmaid who sounds smarter than them."
John frowned.
"That's unfair, he said, clearly perturbed.
"I'm earning money, though - enough to pay for a place to live and food to eat. If that comes at the price of my accent, well, it's not that important." Rose shrugged her shoulders.
"So why did you move here?" he asked.
"My dad died. After that, my mum just couldn't feel comfortable. We had family over here - my cousin, Shareen, and her parents - so we moved here."
Rose almost didn't want to look at John, but instead of pushing her for more, he just sighed and looked up at the empty sky.
"It's a pity about all this light pollution," he commented.
"Honestly, I think the exact same thing every time I get off work," she told him, relieved by the subject change.
"I just came in from the desert. Out there, you can see millions of stars. It's breathtaking," he told her.
By that time, they had reached the diner, and Rose held open the chrome-plated door for John.
The diner was mostly empty, as the majority of people in Vegas preferred alcohol over coffee at this time of night. The diner itself had been constructed in the 60s or so, back when metal plating and floors resembling chessboards had been all the rage. It was a rather unwieldy-looking building, with teal and silver and pink slapped haphazardly on the walls. It was hideous and tacky - a perfect reflection of the city itself, Rose always thought.
She and John sat down to order.
"What were you doing out there in the desert?" she asked him while they waited for the waitress to appear.
"Research, experiments, all sorts of sciency things. I'm an astrophysicist," he explained.
Rose hadn't thought he could be any more perfect. Apparently she was mistaken.
"Can you keep a bit of a secret?" she asked him, leaning forward confidentially.
"Sure," he promised, looking a bit surprised.
"I've never told anyone - they'll only laugh - but I've been studying astronomy and space in my spare time." She felt herself turning red. "I never graduated. I dropped out. School was never interesting to me, and with my dad and moving and all, I kind of gave up. But space⦠well, it's kind of amazing."
She wasn't sure why she was telling him all this. 'He's a bloody doctor,' she told herself. 'Genius, probably. He's not going to be impressed with you. He's probably thinking how annoying you are.'
But when she worked up the courage to raise her eyes from the table, she saw that John was beaming at her.
"Oh, Rose Tyler, you are brilliant," he said. "What have you been learning about recently? I can probably help."
Encouraged by his enthusiasm, Rose talked and talked about her studies, and when the waitress finally did appear, it took a minute for the pair to even notice.
Several hours and at least two pots of coffee later (John drank a ridiculous amount of it, always with too much sugar and cream), Rose finally had the presence of mind to notice that it was nearly 3 in the morning. John said he had to get back to work in about five hours, so they paid and left.
"Tell you what, Rose Tyler," he said as the walked to the nearest bus stop. "Let's make a deal. You keep a lonely old doctor company by meeting me in this diner every day, and I'll teach you about space."
"Are you really bargaining me into going on dates with you?" she teased him, and was gratified by a red flush on his cheeks.
"Not dates, I -" he began, but Rose shushed him.
"Here. Let me give you my number," she said, pulling a pen out of her pocket and scribbling a number on his arm. "Call me whenever."
The bus pulled up and they bid each other farewell.
"See you!" Rose called, and began her walk home, smiling to herself.
