The door opened. Wondering whether or not he needed to take cover, the
Seventh Doctor looked up and relaxed as a man carrying a cat entered
and surveyed the bar. In his booth the White Dalek did his
metaphorical best to leap to attention. Taking a second look the
Doctor moved to have a word with the bartender.
The cat leapt to the floor and the man moved towards the bar, only to
be intercepted by Polly. Before she could open her mouth the man said
"No, I am not a crossover, and all we want is a drink."
His eyes glowed.
"By the way, Polly, you would do better with chalk."
Looking down, Polly realised instead of an electronic slate she was
holding a slice of roofing slate.
Moving past Polly, the man reached the bar and looked down at the cat.
"Ah, right, I would like a double- ouch! OK, Varne, make that a pint of
bitter, a bottle of Baileys and a saucer please."
"Yes, sir. Do you have a credit card? The management does not like
having the takings reverting to leaves before they cash up."
Moving to a table, the man placed the saucer on its top, filled it
and with a sigh of relief sat down. The cat jumped to the table top
and started licking up the Irish Cream.
"Varne, I am getting tired of this. You have been sulking for weeks."
The cat gave him what could only be described as a dirty look and
turned back to the saucer.
"All right, I apologise. Next time I will let you disembowel someone."
The cat growled.
"OK. I will give you a free hand - though that would be considered
disgusting even by Torquemada. Now at least change to something that can
talk clearly. Understanding cat gives me a headache."
Maternity is a matter of fact
Paternity is a matter of opinion