So, I had a really, really bizarre dream last night.
I was in a Ragstock- for those of you who don't know, Ragstock is a chain of awesome thrift stores- browsing around, and I happened upon a jacket that was exactly like Fitz's- ie: exactly like Nine's. Of course, I had to buy it. So I did, and I headed back to my place. Except that my place seemed to be a really huge, art deco type place with high ceilings and panelled walls, and the ballroom was blocked off, because someone was having a party in there. With hookers. Hookers in sort of 18th century costume. But there were TV monitors, so I could see what was going on, and I stood there and watched for a moment or two, before, lo and behold, look who walks into the room- Fitz. I knew it was Fitz, even if he looked more like mertondingle
cosplaying Fitz than Callum Blue. He seemed really excited about the fact that I'd found his jacket at a thrift store- even though he was already wearing his jacket- and we had a conversation about this, and I awkwardly explained to him that the Doctor, in his next regeneration, wears his jacket and b'aww, how tragic that is, etc.
At some point, mysteriously, the jacket I had bought had turned from black leather into a sort of light linen, cream-coloured with faint orange and blue Glen plaid thing going on. I then tried an extremely unsubtle line on Fitz about leather being sexy and got in a little molesting of his upper arm before there was a ruckus behind the closed door, and we looked at the monitor to see that the floor had opened up and apparently this house of mine was miles in the air, because all the guests were dropping like stones to earth. Horrible, yes, but moreso when I realised that mertondingle
had been in there, and were now falling to their deaths. There was also... a thing of missiles? I don't know, really massive missiles, but Lia and Denise seemed to have latched them as they were falling, and Fitz and I watched on the monitor as they scrambled up these missiles, which wasn't going to do any good anyway, as the missiles were falling too. And then Fitz seemed to decide that the imminent death of my friends would be a great time to slide an arm around my waist and try a line of his own, which I'm fairly sure I was too distraught to do anything about.
... And then I woke up the next day on the floor of my mansion with Tegan, and Fitz was there again and gave us some significant looks, the perv. I blushed and Tegan flipped him the bird, and he scurried off to spy on us from behind a pillar in case we did anything worth spying on. We didn't. But someone was selling t-shirts at the other end of the hall.