As promised at the end of the last match of Gallifrey Records fic tennis, a sneak preview of what’s coming up in our next match:
Rose stares at the photo. At the way the Doctor’s leaning into Reinette’s body. At his fingers, frozen in time as they fiddle with her hair. Even though it’s hidden behind golden curls, Rose knows the Doctor’s thumb is stretched along the slope where Reinette’s shoulder joins her neck, because the Doctor’s hand has rested on Rose’s own shoulder countless times, just so.
This is the moment before he leans down to grin against the curve of her cheek and whisper, “I love you, Rose Tyler.”
Did he call her Reinette or Madame? she wonders.