She keeps him on his toes.
River Song, in black leather and silver studs, looking like a biker, one leg drawn up casually and sporting high heels, eyes daring him to adventure.
River Song, in a Victorian ball gown, hair swept up in elaborate curls, dripping with chunky jewelry, out-aristocrating everyone in sight.
River Song, in halter top and short shorts, tanned and bouncy, grinning in challenge as she served a volleyball.
River Song, dense, fierce, and angry, covered in soot and burns, a rifle in one hand, a pistol in the other, emerging through the smoke like an avenging angel.
River Song, hair askew, smiling softly, a pillow crease in one cheek, wearing nothing but satisfaction.
River Song, his wife, his friend, his tormenter, his puzzle, his challenge. His song.
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