Amy smiled, her morning hangover all but gone. She looked out of the window and out at the sea, maybe she would actually get to the water today. She got into another bathing suit that she found in her suitcase, and tying the sarong around her waist, she left the room with the small bag that she had brought with her the day before. She walked down the hallway, in the lift, and soon found herself back in the foyer. She was planning on walking straight through, walking through the crowd of people that were crowding and queuing in the usually quiet foyer, but hadn't been expecting to find someone waiting for her.

"Doctor?" She said, walking gingerly over to him, unsure of how he would react after last night.

"Good morning." He greeted her, a little too quickly, and avoided eye contact. He moved to the counter, politely joining the queue.

"It's nearly four." She reminded him, attempting to playfully elbow him, but it turned into an awkward nudge, contact that he shied away from.

"It's morning somewhere." He told her.

"Of course." She said. The awkward silence continued, and she twiddled her thumbs are she waited, pursing her lips in boredom. She tried to ignore the awkwardness, talking seemed appropriate. "Why are we queuing?"

"There's a convention on," The Doctor told her. "Some sort of sporty thingy. They need the rooms, so we're leaving."

"Right." Said Amy, looking down at her flip-flop clad feet. "I don't have my stuff; my clothes, my case. Should I go get it?" They were interrupted as the person in front of them moved away, and it was their turn at the counter.

"We'd like to check out, please!" The Doctor said, all too chirpily. He handed over the room keys.

"Of course, Sir, Madam," Said the receptionist, pressing buttons on a computer hidden below the desk. Amy's bag appeared on the counter, and she raised an eyebrow. "Complimentary." She explained. "I hope you enjoyed your stay!" The woman finished off with a bright smile, and the Doctor stalked off silently.

"Oh, it was illuminating." Amy told her sarcastically, before running off to catch up with the Doctor, her long legs equal to hers, though her shoes being far more impractical than his. "Doctor!" She called. He didn't look round, but she caught up with him quickly. "Doctor?" She tried again, and again he ignored her, continuing to walk and look steadfastly on, heading for the sandy parking lot where the TARDIS was. "OY!" She yelled, swatting his shoulder with her hand.

"What?" He said finally, stopping to look at her.

"We aren't leaving because of the convention." She told him. He went back to walking, and again she fought to keep up with him. "Is this because of last night?" He remained silent. "I didn't mean it."

"Didn't you?" Asked the Doctor, slowing down to look at her again. "Because, Amy, alcohol has the effect of lowering your inhibitions, making you act how you actually want to act. If you said it, you thought it."

"But I didn't know I thought it!" She tried to explain, dropping her bag in the sand now that they had reached the TARDIS. "And I don't think it now!"

The Doctor tried to push the door of the blue box open, but it stuck. Pulling a key out of his pocket, he placed it in the lock and tried to turn it. It didn't open.

"Doctor!" She yelled, annoyed at being ignored. "Are you listening to me?"

"Busy," he replied. He leaned in to the glass, trying to peer through the frosted windows. Taking his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, he tried to open it that way, but it still remained closed. "We're locked out."