Oncoming Storms - Prompt 128.3 - Dressed in a pink bunny suit you can't get out of
"Doctor..." she began the moment she entered the console room, trying to keep her voice nice and calm. Which only worked for a split second before she continued with, "What the hell is this?" She pointed at herself and the atrocious thing she wore, fixing him with one of her looks.
Her friend glanced over his shoulder, glasses popped onto his face--no doubt he was examining something on that scanner--and burst out laughing the moment he looked at her.
"This isn't funny!" she said, propping both hands on her hips. Honestly, laughing at a time like this! She had half a mind to introduce her pink-furred hand to his face.
"All right, all right, but...have you looked into a mirror lately?" he asked, his face muscles twitching. It couldn't have been more obvious that he was trying not to smile and while she vaguely appreciated the effort, he clearly didn't understand the full gravity of the situation. "I mean," he cleared his throat, forcing a more serious expression to cross his features. "You wouldn't happen to have an Aunt Clara, would you?"
"Who?"
He shrugged innocently, rubbing the back of his neck. "Never mind. Where did you find that anyway? You look quite fetching in pink rabbit ears and all, but--"
"Oh, don't you dare," she said, advancing on him. She felt said ears bopping back and forth on top of her head, as well as the metal ends that dug into her scalp. "I want out of this thing, Doctor."
"Well, you got into it, didn't you? Just do what you did, only in reverse," he said, backing up until he was up against the central console.
She let out a little a huff, trying to ignore the sweat beading on her forehead, and frowned severely. Her face was red--she could feel it--but it was due to the suit being so damned hot and for once she wanted to feel the coolness of the TARDIS environment. "I know how to change clothing, you dumbo. It didn't look like this before."
"What did it look like?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.
"A pretty little frock from the forties. And that's 1940s, not any other time before you even start banging on about the 1840s or 2040s or 4040s," she said, wagging a finger at him.
He pursed his lips and nodded. "Right," he replied, clicking his teeth. "Not starting."
"Anyway, after I'd..." She trailed off, a little embarrassed to admit this. "After I'd had my fun modelling in front of the mirror," she said very quickly, hoping in vain that he wouldn't quite catch it all, "I tried to change out of it, but when I did, it switched to this...this pink nightmare."
The little grin curling his lips told her that yes, he'd heard every word, and she wondered if he might've known that she did that on occasion. "Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed, his face lighting up with realisation. "That's a Feralocasio!"
"Come again?"
But he didn't hear her and continued. "Ohhh, now it makes complete sense! I'd wondered where that got to. Not that I needed it or--"
"Well, good for you," she interrupted him before he could babble on about how he might just wear something other than the same two suits over and over if he only had the Feralowhatever. "I've found it. Now can you help me out of this before I die of heat exhaustion?!"
"Yeah, sorry," he said and came over, looking her up and down for the closures. "You see, a Feralocasio is a rare--well, not quite so rare in the 43rd century but rare enough now--technological marvel manufactured as an article of clothing. It was originally meant for the busy worker who had no time to go home and change for a party or any other meeting or celebration. Very popular with office workers, but soon became very popular with film companies who didn't have to spend so much money on costumes."
Her furry pink foot began tapping impatiently on the metal grating, but the padding stifled the noise somewhat. Any other time she would've been interested in a bit of costume history, even if such a thing was in her future, but as always, his explanations came at inappropriate times.
"You see," he continued, his hands gently pushing at her back, no doubt moving aside the plush fur. "Sewn into the garment are very subtle psychic sensors that pick up on where the user is going to next, but in some cases it can be pre-programmed so there aren't any sort of wardrobe malfunctions. Like this one. It must've sensed you were dressing up and assumed you wanted to go to a costume party and, erm, came up with this." His muffled chuckle didn't escape her ears. And neither did: "Hmm, that's odd."
She froze at those words. "What is?" she asked hesitantly, glancing at him over her shoulder.
"Well...it seems there isn't a zip on the back. You sure there isn't one up front?" He came around, saw the deadpan look she was giving him, and very quickly added, "Ah, right. You would've...noticed that and wouldn't be here. Anyway, lucky for you, there's a little on/off switch. Somewhere."
"Can't I just think I'm going somewhere else?" she asked, almost ready to just tear the damn thing off.
An eyebrow arched high on his face as he seemed to mull that over. "Have you tried that?"
In all honesty, she hadn't. Not that she knew thinking of such a thing would be the solution, but she did have a couple minutes to at least try and didn't. Her hopes had rested on the zip. "We aren't exactly going anywhere, so no, I haven't."
"Let's try this," he began and took hold of her elbow. He quickly led her out of the console room and swiftly passed a few other doors she knew led to the kitchen, loo, and one of his workshops. "What would you say if we had cuppa in the TARDIS gardens?"
Now it was her turn to arch an eyebrow at him as they walked through the halls. "I'd say now isn't the time for tea."
"No, no, that's not what I meant."
"Well what did you mean? Care to translate 'Spacemanian' into English?" she asked, knowing full well where her friend was from.
She heard him let out a little sigh. "I mean," he said, stopping in front of a set of doors, "what would you think of wearing to a tea party?"
When he said the words 'tea party', he threw the double doors open, and the sights, sounds, and smells of the TARDIS gardens immediately assaulted her. It never ceased to amaze her how beautiful the gardens were, but as she wandered in, she failed to see just how-- But she interrupted her own thoughts and looked down at what she now wore. The large bow-tie fixed to her neck blocked out the rest of her new outfit, and a huge top hat tumbled off her head and into large bunch of bushes.
"Hmm," he said, standing in the doorway to the gardens. "It seems a type of tea party has worked, but I doubt you were thinking of an ensemble like this."
"No, I wasn't." At least the frock coat was nice, but all the same! "This thing's taking the mickey out of me. I'd imagined a cute little dress, but this Feraloser thing seems to be stuck down the rabbit hole."
"Feralocasio. Well, at least that should be easier to get ouf of. Unless it changes again and you're in a mouse costume or--"
"Doctor!" she exclaimed, not wanting to give the 'advanced technological marvel' any bright ideas.
"Oi, it could be worse! It could be emulating 'The Emperor's New Clothes' and we both know where you'll be then!"
She stopped for a moment, and decided that the exaggerated but gentlemanly Victorian costume was well worth staying in so long as she didn't turn up in her undergarments next. The pink bunny suit had been enough embarrassment for one day.
"All right, this'll do. For now," she said, mustering up the remaining scraps of the dignity she had left. She had a seat on a white wrought iron chair and looked at him expectantly, a smart little smile crossing her features. "Don't suppose you can fetch us that cuppa, would you? Maybe a robe as well so I can change out of this before it does anything else funny."
"Will that be all, Hatter?" he asked flatly. She half-expected him to ask what sort of funny things it could do, but being made to make their tea seemed to have put that out of his mind.
"Nah. That's it, Alice," she replied sweetly and set to work removing the Feralocasio. If she had part of it off, she reasoned, it just might not change on her again.
Muse: Donna Noble
Word count: 1493