“That’s the thing though, Miss Song,” Jack muses pleasantly as he fires up the shuttle’s sleek spherical landing gear with a few button pushes and a blow of air for luck, “The last time I was here, I noticed this place had a chameleon-tech shielded basement… just like my Torchwood. Of course you would know about that particular side effect of frequent TARDIS landings in a single location, wouldn’t you?”
River raises her eyebrows as the crew cabin lurches this way, that way; this Jack has an obvious flair for the dramatic, like another idiot she knows.
“Of course,” she murmurs drily, “…where do you think you got your dress sense from?”
Jack lands the shuttle in a grey area; they can see their destination from the window screens. He turns to his three-man crew and leans into life like a former Forgotten Man, practically singing out his next sentence as he plants himself in the doorway of the shuttle’s exit ramp.
“What makes you think he rubbed off on me, Miss Song?” he murmurs, scratching his hair like a freckle-faced boy, “I’ve been trying to get him to do that for millennia. He’s never going to.”
River just stares, double-taking it all in. “You mean to say he hasn’t slept with you yet? He’s certainly got resolve. Just wait him out; he’ll come eventually. After all, he slept with me! Finally.”
Before she can breathe, he’s in her face, gulping her air with silent, closed lips from across the room… and he’s never once moved from his place in the doorway.