“Must be some kind of vehicular port,” she mutters, as her eyes find a strange pink object some distance away, near the center of the lonely, ambling room, “Rassilon might find me if I stay too long. Although, I don’t think he’s in the building right now, judging by the color scheme.”
She walks toward the object poking from the grey old floor, coming close enough now to see its shape.
A long pink rod, topped by a… heart-shaped royal crown set on a golden bow.
“Honestly, boy,” she grumble-huffs as she sprints the last few steps and takes the strange rod in her hand, “I knew you were into cross-dressing but this is ridiculous.”
A piece of paper flutters off as she lifts it. She rips it from the air and reads,
“For a Good Time, Twirl.”
Her resultant glare scrapes the rest of the paint off the opposite wall.