Three days of their personal timeline later, they're caught in a sudden downpour of rain in a little English village. They end up in a pub, at table by the fire, which she finds endlessly fascinating.
"The wonders of the universe," he says, "and you're entertained by a common fireplace."
"It's fascinating," she tells him, hands outstretched to feel the heat of the flames.
"You know, I once found a fireplace that was actually a time window from a space ship in the 51st century to 18th century France."
She stares at him, wide-eyed wonder and rapt attention. "You did?"
"Yeah, that was an adventure and a half. Clockwork droids, a horse…" He trailed off, eyes suddenly darker. "That was a long time ago."
"How old are you?"
"Me? I'm 1220."
"Gosh," she breathes. "You must have had so many adventures!"
"You have no idea." He smiles at her, but it's the sad sort of smile you give to someone who you know means well but is hurting you anyway. "What about you then, how old are you?"
"Sixteen," she replies, and he makes a sort of choked noise.
"You're… young."
"I am not," she counters, setting her jaw and glaring at him for an imagined offense.
"You are. Don't mermaids live to 300?"
"Roughly, yes."
"You're just a -"
"I am not a child!" she snaps before he can finish he sentence. "I can take care of myself." He smiles knowingly, and her anger immediately softens. She tries to resist, but eventually she has to ask, "What?"
"You remind me of... someone. A few someones, actually."
She leans forward, propping her elbow on the table and cupping her chin in her palm. "Who?"
"Some of my past companions," he answers. "I suppose you could say I have a type."
"What does that mean?" she asks innocently, even as her thoughts return to the photo she knows is still safe in his breast pocket, of him and the mysterious Amy Pond.
"It means I only pick the best."
She grins.
When their meals arrive she twirls the dinglehopper – fork, he corrects, although he says he personally prefers her name for it – and he shows her how to use it to pick up chips.
"You can use your fingers, though, if you want," he explains. She nods with a mouthful of mushed potato, and it's an adorable sight. He relaxes into his chair, straightens his bowtie and says, "Have I told you about the time I saw the end of the world and then went to get chips?"
a.n. i think ff stuffed up with the last chapter and didn't send out notifications. please review!