In the Wardrobe
"Wow. How big is this place?!" Michael exclaimed, looking up and around. He and Clair were in the TARDIS wardrobe. The Wardrobe contained an absolutely MASSIVE amount of clothes from many different times, planets, and times on those planets. Including Earth.
"There are over fifteen thousand different rooms, each serving a function." Clair answered. "How was your shower?"
"Very nice, and thank you for bringing me a bathrobe. It is kind of drafty in here."
"You are most welcome. The temperature control mechanisms are unresponsive as of right now. " She raised an arm, gesturing to the huge amount of clothing. "You may use any article of clothing you wish. Shoes, socks, and boots are two levels down. Is there anything else you want to know about the wardrobe?"
Michael shook his head. "No, thank you."
Clair nodded. "I'll see you back in the Console Room, yes?"
"Okay."
The image of Clair faded. Michael wrapped the bathrobe around himself more tightly and started leafing through the articles of clothing. Jackets, winter coats, suit jackets, waistcoats, slacks, jeans, T-shirts, dress shirts, muu muus, you name it, it was there, each item hanging on its own hanger.
Michael was kind of persnickety about his clothes. He very much preferred formal or semi-formal clothes to casual (shirt, tie, and slacks to T-shirts and jeans). They were much classier than casual.
In accordance with his preferences, he picked out a white, long-sleeved dress shirt, a deep blue tie(not a bow tie, even though they are cool ), a pair of black slacks, a waistcoat(black), a matching jacket, and a tan trench coat. Missing shoes and socks, he descended the spiral staircase and picked up a pair of socks and a pair of dress shoes that fit.
Checking himself in one of the full-length mirrors found on each level, he slid on the shirt, and buttoned it, admiring the texture. He wasn't obsessed with clothing, but he knew how to appreciate a savory piece. Next came the trousers. A belt came on the hanger. He slid into them and buckled the belt. After that, he slipped the tie around his neck, tied it in a Half-Windsor knot and tightened it. Done with the tie, he sat on the bench situated in front of the mirror, he pulled on the socks, slid his feet into the shoes and tied them.
Picking up the waistcoat, he put his arms through the holes, buttoned it, and felt a weight in the right pocket. He put his hand in the pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. It was a fairly heavy thing, and the cover was engraved with an elegant circular design. Opening it, he surveyed the face. The face gleamed in the light and was also engraved with a different circular pattern. All in all, it was heavily detailed and very beautiful. It hung from a chain which measured about thirteen inches. He liked it and slipped the hook on the chain onto the lip of the pocket and the watch actually inside the pocket.
He slid the jacket off its hanger and pulled it on, noticing a long pocket sewn into the lining. The pocket had something silver sticking out of it. He pulled out the mysterious object. It was about thirteen long and somewhat weighty, about two and a half pounds. Most of the body was glossy black except for the silver end. It had four claws at the other end. Michael noticed there was a button on the handle which practically screamed "PRESS ME!"
He took it in one hand( strangely, it was contoured to fit his hand) and softly pressed the button. A light he hadn't noticed at the tip illuminated, bathing everything at that end in a white light and the device made a whirring sound. Hmm. Cool. No idea what it's for. I suppose I'll ask Clair? He slid it back into the pocket it came out of and examined himself in the mirror. The end result seemed classy without seeming arrogant (Yes, you can give off an arrogant vibe by your appearance alone; I do not recommend it) or snobbish. Satisfied with his appearance, he turned and mounted the stairs back to the Console Room.
In the Console Room
"What shall I do? Michael surely does not know anything about to repair my systems, and I have sustained enough damage that I cannot do it myself." Clair fretted to herself. "I could guide him. He could make the repairs under my guidance. Yes. That would work if Michael is willing to repair me."
"Clair?" Michael's voice floated from behind her and she turned around to see him dressed rather nicely, she thought. "How do I look? Too classy? Or should I go for a more casual look?"
"You look rather like one of my...my pilots, Radagast did. I much think it is a... how do you say it?... nice look for you." She intoned, reluctantly reliving the memory of her landing.
"Nice. Okay, thank you." He nodded, the pulled out the device he had examined in the wardrobe. In the brighter light of the Console Room, he could see that the device was also decorated in a circular font-type, much like the watch. "Do you know what this thing is?" he asked, holding it up. "I found it in a pocket sewn into the interior of this jacket."
"Oh yes. What you are holding is a sonic probe. It is a tool, serving numerous functions, including that of a scanner, remote interface and lockpick." She explained. "As the name suggests, the probe uses sonic waves to achieve its task, based on the setting. I created it for you, based on the contours of your hand, which is why it fits your hand snugly." She paused. "Do you wish to return to your home planet?"
"...Yes?"
"Good. Now, I have a proposition for you."