SwordStitcher

The TARDIS was still, the lights dimmed low. The central column of the time rotor stood still and unwanted for the moment. All was peaceful and quiet. Logs crackled merrily in the hearth as P-90 rested against the arm of the love-seat and read by the light of the fire. The library sparkled in soft colours around him. Gently, he lowered a hand and brought a glass tumbler to his lips before replacing it on the end table. Soft footsteps and the swish of her silk gown announced her arrival. Delicately, she folded herself into the chair and leaned into him. Her hair smelled of Vanilla, her skin of Coconut. He raised his arm and allowed her t