A/N - Thank you to Whyna Katran, happy-in-oz, and MayFairy for reviewing!
Disclaimer - I don't own Doctor Who.
"We're not drunk! There really was an alien that eats clothes!"
"Ma'am, even if you're not drunk, you're still being charged with indecent exposure...and insanity."
Emma gaped at the policeman, holding onto the bars of the cell. "Insane? I'm not insane! I mean, he's a bit mad, but not me! Oi, don't walk away! At least give me a coat, or something! It's the middle of winter and I'm in my bra! Damn it." She threw herself down on the bench beside the Doctor, keeping her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"Oh, here." He shrugged off his jacket and slipped it onto her shoulders. "Putting your arms like that just makes them more, eh...prominent." He blushed, staring up at the grey ceiling.
"Shut it!" She held the jacket closed with one hand. "This is all your fault anyway!"
"My fault? You're the one who begged me to take you back to New York. 'Oh, just a short visit, Doctor! I just miss it, Doctor!' Then you went and batted those eyelashes of yours. You practically twisted my arm for this."
"I did not bat my eyelashes!" She scoffed. "You're just making things up now. I said that New York would be fun, and you got all excited about it. Besides, I'm not the one who's a damn alien magnet."
"You're the one who came up with the idea, therefore it's your fault that I've lost my trousers and I'm in prison. Just admit it."
"Fine." She muttered, glaring at his lap. "At least I don't wear boxer briefs."
"At least I don't wear red lace."
"Oh, so you looked?"
"Yes, Emma! I looked!"
"Great, I'm glad that the alien could give you a nice show!"
"Obviously he gave you a show, too, if you know what I'm wearing."
The one other person that was in the cell looked back and forth between them as they continued to fight, eyes wide. "Um, officer?" He yelled. "Could I be moved to a cell without crazy, British people?"