AUTHOR'S NOTE: The only Paris I've ever been to is in New York. This takes place in the other one.

DINNER IN PARIS

The Fifth Doctor and Margaret, the author, are enjoying a ridiculously expensive meal in Paris. They are at a table near a window, naturally, and are watching people pass by outside.

"I though random things were supposed to happen," the Doctor observed as he took a sip of his champagne.

"Give it time," Margaret replied. "My muse is busy with another project. Sometimes it takes a bit of prodding to change gears."

"I see."

Suddenly the sky outside is awash with what appeared to be an enormous firework display.

"That isn't random," the Doctor snorted.

A that moment, a marching band tromped through the building, followed by several parade floats left over from Mardi Gras. A large crowd was clamoring for cheep bead necklaces, and several women flashed their breast.

The Doctor turned an inquiring gaze to his dining partner.

"Not even in fiction," she stated flatly.

"Pity."

Margaret's eyebrows went up. "Hey, I was trying to keep you in character."

"Why must I miss out on the fun?"

Margaret considered. "Point taken. But you do have quite the following on this site, you know? I didn't want to upset your loyal fans."

"Really? It was my understanding that I'm considered a bit wet."

"Not by me. You were in my first fan fic, remember."

"Could we dispense with the marching bands? They're rather distracting," the Doctor said in an annoyed tone. "Its very hard to accept praise graciously when one has to shout to be heard."

Margaret waved her magic laptop and the restaurant returned to its original, serene state. "This won't last long."

"Could you hold off on the randomness until after dessert arrives?"

"Its here already.

The Doctor looked down to see this was indeed the case. "I wish you wouldn't do that," he said irritably.

"Gimme a break. I don't get to actively participate in these very often."

"Isn't that what you do when you write?"

"Heck, no. You lot take over the story every chance you get," Margaret snorted.

The Doctor grinned impishly. "I didn't think you'd noticed."

"It's hard to miss." Margaret looked up. "And speaking of taking over the story..."

Tegan and Nyssa arrived, trialed by Turlough and Adric.

"What kept you?" the Doctor inquired happily. "You've missed dinner, a fireworks display, and a parade."

Nyssa and Tegan held up fistsful of Mardi Gras beads. "No, didn't," they said in unison.

"I got it all on tape," Turlough injected, holding up a tiny recording device. "I'm going to produce a video. 'Companions Gone Wild.' I'll make a fortune."

"Oh, the web-cam you wanted is all set up in your room," Margaret informed.

"What web-cam?" the Doctor demanded.

"Oh, Doctor, do keep up."

Margaret pointed out the window. "Turlough, I think you might want to check out what's happening down there. I see a few other companions doing…things."

Everyone looked out the window.

"Hang on a minute," the Doctor said in surprise, rising to his feet. "That's not Paris out there. That's–"