The flame from the candle threw shadows across his face, yet when the light hit him from a certain angle he looked almost...

Romana hurriedly looked down at her own plate, and speared the last piece of a particular succulent steak (from what animal she could not yet place, nor would probably want to) with a finely sharpened knife. During this dinner she'd examined everything in great detail, you see - it was the only way of keeping her mind unfocussed. The flowers were a nice touch, she thought, very pretty. And not too many of them either, just enough to set the whole thing off a treat. And, and the napkins, finely folded, unused as of yet, but, well, certainly -

Was that his leg brushing hers? She froze. What if it was? Accidental or deliberate? What did it mean? What did - oh. Table leg. She'd brushed against it herself. Ahem. She mentally scolded herself for being so... so... See, she was so annoyed at herself that she couldn't even finish her self-derogatory remark. She thrust the piece of steak into her mouth and chewed hard.

He'd almost finished his meal, whatever it was - lots of little yellow twirly things in some sort of sauce. Earth cuisine, no doubt. She smiled to herself. Thank goodness there were no blasted jelly babies.

Placing the fork onto her plate, parallel with the knife as the Doctor had told her to do ("It's call etiquette ,"), she dabbed at her mouth with the napkin, and sat back, arms hung loose. Sigh. Another meal gone by, another chance lost.

Chance? Stop being silly.

His eyes. They stared at hers. "Enjoyed it?"

"What?"

"Your cooked bovine meat segment and elongated pieces of finely cut potatoes."

"... What?"

"Rump steak and chips."

"Oh yes, yes! Delicious. Yum."

"Good, good!" He leant forward slightly, eyes scanning from side to side, voice hushed. "He's a fantastic chef, you know."

"Oh yes. Quite fantastic."

"Quite quite fantastic."

"Marvellous, even."

"You're quite right, Romana, you're quite right."

"What's his name?"

"The Doctor."

A toothy grin, two twinkling eyes - just another dinner with the Doctor. And though she was loathe to admit it, and to her dying day she'd never admit it to him, she loved every single one of them.

The music.

"Adagio for strings?"

He nodded. "Mmm."

They listened, together. Eventually, Romana couldn't work out if that steady beat she could hear was the music or her hearts beating. She told herself it was the former. Definitely the former.

"It flows, spirals, upwards I think, or at least I often think, to a melodious high," he nattered, "It carries on, simply, no beat needed to keep it in time."

... Oh, be quiet.

Romana slowly began to place her elbow upon the table, her hand cupped ready to slide her chin into place, so that she could either listen, or "close her eyes", or-

"Romana!"

She started, shooting bolt upright, eyes wide. "Yes?"

"Dessert?"

"Where?"

"No, would you like some?"

Blink. "Oh yes! Yes, mmm."

He sat back. "I'll fetch us the menu." Pause. "K9, fetch us the menu!"

The familiar electronic, if now slightly haughty-sounding, "Yes, master," came back at them from the darkness, and K9 trundled forward, black necktie firmly in place, and menus carried in a rack on his back. "Would master and mistress like to have their bill now?"

Romana frowned, and looked at the Doctor. "Bill? But we-"

"Service charge." He inclined his eyes down towards K9 and nodded, once. Romana sighed and rolled her eyes. Extravagances.

Touching, really.

Time went on, as did the music, and the two of them came to the end of their ice creams. She liked ice cream. So did he. It would've been silly to order ice cream otherwise, probably. The last scoop slid down her throat, and she dropped her spoon inside the bowl. "Oh, that was wonderful," she sighed, and tipped her head back, straightening her hair. She heard a mumbled reply, but didn't really listen to the words themselves. When she looked back at him, he was scraping the last gloops (gloops?) of chocolate sauce from the bottom of his bowl, grinning, like a child. Her hearts melted, and she laughed, quietly but joyfully. He showed no signs of having heard. Probably for the best really.

And then he'd put his spoon down as well, and they were both sat still, watching the candle get shorter and shorter. How long they sat like that, neither knew. Silently sitting, silently breathing, listening to the music. Comfortable.

It's not going to happen. It'll never happen, so stop thinking it. Besides, why do you want it to happen? You're above such things. Aren't you? ... You're not above eating ice cream, or saying "Yum," so who knows? You evidently don't.

A shake of the head to clear away the thoughts. "Well, I'll go and do the washing up." She made to stand, but the Doctor motioned for her to stay sitting. Wordlessly, he took a napkin and leant over, and wiped away some chocolate sauce from her cheek. His smile. Smiling at her. Her fluttering hearts, fluttering for him. Did he know? No, surely he couldn't. He mustn't! No no no!

And he stood, presumably to take the plates himself... Stopping… Crouching… He was on one knee…

One knee!

She held her breath, and, without thinking, snapped her eyes shut. The reason why she was thinking these thoughts that she thought she couldn't begin to think. She just thought them.

The seconds ticked by, and she waited for his words.

"Romana."

Oh!

"Yes, Doctor?"

"I'll do the washing up tonight."

She snapped her eyes open and looked down.

Shoelaces.

And then he got up and left the room. And she was left with the melted candle, and the final notes of the music. Again. The ending of another dinner with him. And his voice coming back at her from the other room:

"Oh Romana? Fancy a jelly baby?"

She didn't answer him. But she did smile.