If I . . .
Words: 317
The Wolf: Thank you so much!
Barcelona or New (^15) York? Donna thoughtfully hummed to herself. Barcelona—"dogs with no noses, think about it!"—or New New York—"cat people, apple grass, no plagues or bliss, promise!"—that was the question.
And a good question it was, too.
The Doctor had been promising that Barcelona trip for a while. The last time they'd tried to get there, they'd been waylaid by a distress signal. It had turned out to be a Sontaran battalion, one that turned hostile at the realization of who their saviors were. But, after spending an hour listening to how many different ways that they would be killed in, the Doctor had gotten 37 peace treaties out of the aliens.
Hmm . . . so, Barcelona . . .
Pros:
Dogs with no noses.
The planet, not the city.
Pretty great/good/ amazing cafes.
They'd finally check it off the list.
Cons:
It was a journey with the Doctor—something was bound to go wrong, especially when they've been planning for so long.
Donna erased her mental whiteboard. She wasn't sure, the thought then, when she'd began making lists like that. Oh, well . . . one list was never enough.
New New York
Donna felt especially important as she mapped it out in cursive—ahem.
Pros:
New York.
(Correction – New New York. Well, New^15 York, if she was being specific.)
Cat people.
She'd never been.
Cons:
Bliss.
Plague.
He'd obviously been there before, and from his brief account of that, it hadn't been a good visit. Or, now, the memory of it was unpleasant.
"I've got an idea!" Donna was startled out of her mind by the Doctor's appearance in her field of vision.
"What?"
"Let's go to the moon!" he bounced on his heels. The TARDIS started moving.
"The moon?" Donna echoed.
"Oh, didn't I say?" the Doctor looked apologetic. "Not Earth's moon!"
"Whose moon, then?" she wondered.
"I've no idea!" the TARDIS landed. "Isn't it wonderful?"