As Time Goes By - Chapter 6
Rose was glad that she now had money and could take the Metro. It's not that she wasn't able to walk—in fact she could run, scale fences, jump ditches, and crawl quickly into small spaces if the situation called for it—but she was hungry and did not feel like wasting time getting to her restaurant of choice. She did, however, stop into a high-end store near the entrance of the Metro and purchase a white silk long-sleeved blouse that she had seen in the display window. She had decided to dine outside on the terrace, and thought she might want more than a tank top now that the sun was a bit lower in the sky and a breeze had picked up. As soon as Rose had left the store, she put the blouse on over her tank top and buttoned it, leaving the first three buttons open to create a layered look. She could have worn her leather jacket rather than buy a new shirt, but she figured that she might as well wear something worthy of the high prices and reputation of the establishment. Once on the Metro, Rose used her mobile phone to call ahead and reserve a table for herself. It had been a long emotional day, and she didn't feel like having to wait or to risk the chance that she would be turned away.
When Rose reached the café, she was in awe. It was part of Le Grand Hotel and was located on a corner left of the Opéra-Garnier opera house. The decor was from the era of Napolean III, and the paintings, columns, and gilded trim made Rose feel as if she had stepped into a palace rather than a restaurant. But despite the ornate surroundings, the ambiance supplied by the staff and patrons was warm and relaxed. This was especially true of the terrace in which Rose had reserved a seat. The spectacular view of the opera house was juxtaposed with the casual atmosphere of patrons enjoying a leisurely meal as they watched people passing by. Rose was glad her table was reserved. A casual atmosphere did not mean that the place was empty. If she had not called ahead, she might have been waiting a long time.
The hostess seated Rose at a small table with two chairs. It was one of many identical tables that lined the pavement in a single file row. Then she handed Rose the Menu Terrasse. One of Rose's reasons for choosing the terrace was that the fare was simpler and a bit more reasonably priced than the interior restaurant while still feeling "French." Though becoming an heiress had required Rose to attend social events that involved caviar and goose pate, deep down she was still more of a fish-and-chips type of girl.
As Rose was trying to decide between the beef tartare and the smoked salmon, a waiter placed a glass of wine in front of her. "Cabernet Sauvignon," he said.
"Merci," she said, "but I didn't order this."
"It is compliments of a gentleman at the bar," the waiter told her. Rose wasn't sure if the run-in with the Doctor had kicked the translation matrix into gear or if the waiter was speaking English (she assumed the latter because there were still sounds of the French language all around her), but that was not important. She was intrigued by the glass of wine and the mystery giver. She thought such a move was only done by people in films. Should she just go ahead and accept it though she had no idea who had ordered it? If so, it would help with her meal selection. A red wine of that sort went best with beef.
Rose thanked the waiter again and told him to extend her gratitude to the gentleman at the bar. Then she ordered the beef tartare. She sipped her drink and she watched the people passing by. She hoped that nothing else came from the free wine.
"Do you have the time?" said a cheerful and distinctively familiar Northern voice from behind her. Rose could see the blue glow coming from her watch.
"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine," she mumbled to herself without turning around. She knew she had changed a word in the famous quote and was not using it in its original context, but somehow it fit. One of the activities that had helped Rose and her new father bond was relaxing on Sunday afternoons watching classic films. Casablanca had been the most recent. And while she was not in a gin joint, and she certainly had no ownership of the café, it did feel like a ghost from her past was haunting her. Knowing that the main characters in the film had fallen in love in Paris didn't help matters either.
"Sorry?" asked the Doctor.
"Nothin', " she said as she turned around to look at the Time Lord who standing next to her table. Then she cursed inwardly. That word had come out sounding very much like her original London-Estuary accent and she didn't need him recalling that voice sometime in his future. But she also couldn't be rude. "Eight o'clock," she said, attempting to use the "posh" Received Pronunciation (though she knew she did not have it exactly right).
"What?" the Doctor asked, confused.
"You asked the time," she said simply. "Though it wouldn't' seem necessary since you just bought..." Rose stopped and shook her head. "Oh, right."
The Doctor grinned with a closed-mouth smile that stretched across his whole face. Rose had really missed that smile. "Now she's gettin' it," he said.
"So's that supposed to be some sort of chat-up line?" she asked. It was a bit too flirtatious and her accent was all over the place, but most of her forgot to be concerned about those details.
The Doctor looked horrified. "No!" he said. "Ice breaker. Conversation starter. That's it."
Rose couldn't help but smile at his embarrassed protests. She also felt the need to put him at ease. "I understand. But, if it had been an attempt for my affections, I would have been completely flattered."
Rose thought he saw the tips of the Doctor's ears turn pink. She had said enough. She should send him on his way, but she just couldn't. "Was it you who ordered the wine?" she asked. "I was just pondering its significance."
"Part of a scheme, honestly," he said. "I came here for a meal but got stuck waiting at the bar till a table opened. Then I saw your hat sitting on the table."
"And you ordered me a drink hoping I'd invite you to dine with me," she said, predicting where his explanation was going.
"A bit desperate, me," he said shifting his weight from one foot to the next. "Sorry."
"Don't be." She smiled warmly at him. Then, ignoring the voice of reason that told her she was making a terrible mistake, she said in her best RP accent, "There's plenty of room for two. Please do have a seat."
Author Notes: I had originally planned to post a chapter a day. My short story that was only supposed to take a weekend got a little longer than I was first planning. But I apologize about posting this one a bit late. I had three episodes of Once Upon a Time to watch after some busy weeks and, well, Doctor Who isn't my ONLY fandom. :)
I will do my best to post about once a day till this is done, then I can get back to my longer story before I am chased with torches and pitchforks for my delay.
Purple Guest: Yes fate seems to be pushing them together. One has to wonder if fate is a bit lupine in form.