"Right this way, Dr Tyler."

The Doctor did a slight double-take at the name, and as he sat down in the interview room, he stole a glance at the entry papers in the interviewer's hands, just enough to glimpse the name 'Tyler' somewhere on there. Ah. That explained a lot.

Oh, well. He could think of worse surnames to have ended up with. Actually, he kind of liked it. It felt more real than 'Smith', anyhow. He brought himself forcefully back to the present before he started wondering what Rose would think when she found out they now shared the same surname.

The interviewer, a man by the name of Dr Starle, began by asking him about his scientific background, and the Doctor answered as honestly as he could—graduated second only to one other student at The Academy (which sounded less impressive since he was banned from using the words 'Time Lord'), years of what he decided to call 'independent research', his early jobs on Gallifrey before he got bored (not that he mentioned the bored part), and he managed to throw out a few famous names he'd worked with, trying to limit himself to recent ones.

At one point, Starle frowned, and the Doctor hesitated mid-sentence. "Er, something wrong?"

"Tyler, how old are you?"

"Um," the Doctor said, wondering if he was allowed to answer this one honestly. The question hadn't come up yet on Em Yle; he hadn't even been asked upon their entrance. He decided maybe honesty was the best approach here. "Nine hundred and two."

There was a long silence, Starle staring at him, before finally saying, "I see. If it's not a personal question, might I ask, what is the average life span of a …" he checked the Doctor's papers. "Gallifreyan?"

"Um, don't know. It's never been calculated," the Doctor replied. "Too many variants."

"Right." There was an awkward pause. "Carry on."

Now that was out there, he was able to name a few more famous names without raising eyebrows, and finally the interview moved on. He was asked to prove his knowledge in various areas, which he did quite happily and tried not to appear too smug when he saw how much Starle was trying not to look impressed.

A short silence fell while Starle scribbled in his notes, and the Doctor felt a bit more relaxed. He was acing this, he could tell. Why had he been so worried? Why had Rose been so worried?

"So," Starle said, jerking him out of his inner glow, "You mentioned you used to travel a lot. Could you give some more details?"

The Doctor couldn't see the relevance, but decided not to comment. "All right. I used to spend my life travelling all over the universe. My ship could go pretty much anywhere, it's quite … advanced technology."

"So … any particular reason why you're in one place now?"

The Doctor swallowed. "I lost my ship. Travelling without her just—isn't the same. My companion and I made the decision to settle down, here."

Starle nodded. "I'm sorry about your ship. But you have to understand, I have a responsibility to make sure I'm not hiring an employee who will take off for the next galaxy with no notice."

"I understand. You don't have to worry about that with me."

More notes. "And final question … why do you want to work for NexCorp?"

The Doctor hesitated, thinking. "Um … I like a challenge?"

"So how did it go?" Rose asked when she got home.

"I'm … not sure."

"Did you show off?"

"I don't think so." The Doctor decided not to mention the corrections to the aptitude test. "Dr Starle said I'll know by the end of the week. I think he liked me."

"That's great!" Rose hugged him. "Let's do something this week. Together, I mean; something to celebrate."

"Funny you should say that. You know it's Rain Day this weekend?"

"Er … I heard someone mention it at work. Didn't like to ask—what is it?"

"The last day of spring," the Doctor answered. "Here in Cogodia, there's a holiday with every change of season, traditionally to bid goodbye to the passing season and welcome the new one. It's quite a festival, we should definitely go."

"Why's it called Rain Day, if it's welcoming the summer?"

"It's not welcoming the summer. We're due to start the monsoon. Summer comes after that. Rain Day is the last dry day."

Rose pouted. "Not liking the sound of a monsoon so much."

The Doctor chuckled. "It's not so bad. And followed by tropical weather, so you can't complain."

"Well if it's about to get rainy on us, I say we head to the beach now. The weather's mild enough, and I can't wait till the summer. I've got the whole weekend off; which day is Rain Day?"

It had taken Rose a while to learn the days of the week—there were ten of them, the last three making up the weekend. The week seemed long, though if the days hadn't been significantly shorter than she was used to then it would seem a lot longer.

"Funday."

"So, we go to the beach the day before, on Giday."

The Doctor grinned. "Good plan."