"I just had a huge row with my Mum."
Rose admitted, slotting her phone into the pocket of her denim jacket and leaned against the TARDIS console. She looked thoughtfully at The Doctor who lifted his eyes up from his 17th century earth novel and removed his feet from the seat next to him, gesturing her to take a seat.
"And why did that happen?" He asked, removing his glasses.
"I don't know! It was a usual phone call. You know, "seen any nice middle aged green men for me?" and "Mickey's fixed the clock in the living room". But then she started acting all lonely and demanding; making me feel bad, saying we should go and see her every weekend."
The Doctor rested an elbow on the foam of his chair, one hand steadying his cheekbone. "Well, we could. Every weekend for your Mum doesn't have to be every weekend for me and you."
"I know." She nervously ruffled with the ends of her hair. "That's exactly what the problem would be. A week to her, could be a year to us and I'd feel like I was lying to her, growing too much, robbing her of time. I just like popping in. You know, like as though I've just left home. Not visiting her on a weekly "appointment style" basis. And then she told me I was selfish and said you were selfish and that all the things I buy her are tat. And that Gary had split up with her..."
The Doctor smirked in realisation. "Ahhh, so that's what it was all about!"
"I know! Taking her own problems out on me, making me feel guilty for being innocent. So I put the phone down on her...but I feel so bad and far away now..."
"Come here." The Doctor pulled Rose into a warm hug. "You know," he mumbled into her hair, "we could go and see her now, just to clear the air..."
"Na," smiled Rose, "Besides, she'd kill me. I much prefer staying here, hugging you."