“Made you look, beautiful girl.” The Doctor’s low, tenor chuckle returns her to herself.
“Oh, you!” She chides, but her hands find his hair, latching on like the myth of milking snakes. By way of that floppy brown fur, she travels through him- with him, for him perhaps, and soon, she imagines she has a pet bristly bunny named Endymion to snuggle with, for her head is pressed against his back, and her arms are wrapped around his body, her clean nails squeezing in gentle waves against his curve of hard stomach, adding her own light scratches to the Master’s outburst of finger pointing. Writing lines in the dark again.
Definitely bigger now, she thinks, though not by much; Rassilon had been right when he’d called it a growth spurt. How much different than humans, really? One day, she’d ask him. But for now, another question.
“What do you see when you look at yourself?” she murmurs, her swollen lips smushed against his nape.
A pause, then, “…you mean other than that Flamina’s grown a bit, I take it?”
“Tit for tat, my love; I want an answer- don’t skirt the question.” River says, fiddling with the tie on his sleeping trousers as though adjusting a fly for fishing.
“Easy question. Ex nihil, nihilo fit. Now I have one. Why did you plant that bug in…”