"Rory?"

"Yeah?" His voice is a little absent as he admires himself in the mirror.

"You do know that's a girl's top, right?"

"What?" His face blushes – no, he didn't know. Evidently. Amy conceals a smirk that wants to transpire into a peal of laughter but she hides it because it's Rory. And she does love him, even though the line from her heart to his sometimes gets a little fuzzy. "Don't-"

"Don't what?" She knows what he's going to say, but she wants him to say it all the same.

"Don't, you know, tell anyone." She won't, but then the Doctor walks in and he plays a whole different ball game. He bursts out a raucous laugh, accidentally covering Rory with humorous spray.

"Rory. Shall we have a chat? You know, man to man." Rory raises an eyebrow as the Doctor saunters over. "Man to non-man. Man to alien. Man to Time Lord."

"Um. No?" The idea of having any sort of normal conversation was odd enough (talking about waterfalls of fire or weeping angels was fine, because Rory just accepted it the way it was. And for that, the Doctor liked him) but having said conversation with your fiancé nearby? That was just too weird.

"Listen, I'm 907-"

"So you keep saying," Rory interjects, mainly to get the three of them of this topic and so he could take off the aforementioned top as fast as possible.

"I've seen all sorts. Have you met Jack? He's-" The Doctor stops. What was Jack? It was definitely more than bisexual. Plenty-sexual was probably apt enough. "And if wearing women's clothing is your, your thing – because everyone has a thing. I love a good thing, I-" Amy clears her throat and his digression stops as he scratches his head as if reawakening his brain. "All I'm saying is I don't have a problem with it. Neither does Amy."

"What Amy has is a problem with is people making decisions for her." Rory (stupidly) crouches to the floor and covers his head. The Doctor and Amy playing verbal tennis never stays purely verbal for long.

"Well then Amy shouldn't talk in the third person." The Doctor glances down at Rory, now kneeling on the floor with the far-too-tight union jack top on. "Are you stuck?"

It takes Rory a while to realise the Doctor's talking to him. "No."

"Then why are you on the floor?" It's a fair enough question but Rory can't find a sufficient enough answer. So he stands up sheepishly wishing the union jack on his top wasn't so bright. He'd give anything to be swallowed by the ground (though he's not going to say that, not after Amy really was swallowed by the ground not that long back.)

"That top lived through World War II," he informs them both, "And probably saw the Millennium too. And brought us Jack. Thinking about it, not the best top she could have worn."

"I'm not a 'she'," Rory states again but the Doctor just looks at him blankly.

"I'm well aware of your gender, Rory."

"Not the best top she could have worn, that's what you said."

"I'm also well aware of what I said, Rory." Rory knows the Doctor's mocking him, but with a body that age and a brain that size, Rory's got no chance.

"So then-"

"The top's not yours, Rory." Amy's fed up of this conversation; her boyfriend's not a cross-dresser and her, well her Doctor, needs to get some adrenaline pumping because this conversation is not riveting her in the slightest. "As in it belonged to someone else before you. Probably a woman. Am I right?"

"Correctamundo," he blanches suddenly, running his tongue across his teeth. "Bleugh, that word never sits right with me. Shan't be using that again. Where was I? Oh, cross-dressing Rory. And yes, it did belong to a woman."

"Why didn't she take it with her? Leaving it behind so she could find a reason to come back?" Amy sounds mightily condescending (even though she's planning to do the very same thing) and looks for the Doctor's reaction.

"She wouldn't need a reason." He's sure that, given the chance, she'd come back to him day after day. "If she could come back. Which she can't. So, Rory my boy, do with it what you wish." Rory, thankful for the opportunity at last, tears the garment over his head, ripping it as he does so. Amy rolls her eyes, Rory blushes and the Doctor simply stares. Rory hands over the two halves of the tops and sheepishly searches for his own top, skulking out the room as the Doctor folds the tops and promptly pockets it.

"Why can't she come back, Doctor?" He can't give her the real answer so he resolves to not give her one at all. Instead he shrugs and walks off; it's easier this way.