aces are larger than life and greater than mountains; a doctor/rose fic.
aces are larger than life and greater than mountains, ten/rose, pg-13
Las Vegas, the Sin City, where the games are high-stakes and the temptations are hot.
And then there was Rose; Rose in that stunning dress with an elegant martini glass in her cherry-polished fingers, leaning over his shoulder every so often to whisper in his ear and fuss with his tie, catching the eye of the other three men every time. , 1,102 words
Amazing, really, thought the Doctor as he looked out at the sea of neon, sequins, and feathers, how every planet in the universe had a “Sin” City. So many places devoted to irresponsibility and lost weekends. What did that say about the universe?
While the Doctor hadn’t visited every one of them, he was 100%, well, 95%, well, at least 80% sure that Earth’s Sin City was the loudest, gaudiest, most debauched of the entire bunch. Not even Huxley had such an abundance of fishnet.
And blimey, but those Americans sure knew how to throw a party.
The Doctor had to step quickly to avoid being stepped on by an over-enthusiastic parade of drunks on a bar crawl and tightened his grip on Rose’s hand.
“Doctor, can we stop for a drink?” Rose shouted over the slurred chanting.
“Rose, we’ve more pressing matters to worry about at the mo. We’ve got thirty minutes to get to the TARDIS, get changed, and make it back to the Bellagio before the game starts.”
“Can I at least have a drink when we get there?”
“Can I trust you to stay sharp around those card sharks if you have that drink?”
“I can hold my liquor, Doctor,” she said reprovingly, flashing him that defiant look of a just-grown woman still determined to prove she wasn’t a child any more. As if he could regard her as anything but a woman, with those curves and that mouth…
“Apologies,” he said, navigating the crowded sidewalks of Las Vegas on a Saturday night.
---
“Well? What d’you think?”
She twirled and he found he didn’t know where his voice had gone. Perhaps it had gone to explore that plunging neckline…
“This may be the fanciest thing I’ve ever worn,” Rose went on. “I’ve always wanted a bona fide black dress before. And it’s awfully flattering in front. Yeah, Doctor?” She ran her hands down her sides, leaning forward just enough as a smile that was equal parts Rose Tyler and Marilyn Monroe spread across her face.
That sly minx! She knew exactly what she was doing. He cleared his throat loudly, fiddling needlessly with his bow tie.
“And you look sharp, too,” she said, reaching out to straighten the rosebud he’d slipped through his buttonhole. “Very James Bond.”
“Connery or Moore?”
“Oh, Connery, without a doubt.” There was that smile again. He had an inkling they’d be playing a different sort of game after leaving the casino.
---
The Doctor loved poker.
It was easily one of the best games invented in the universe. What made it so amazing was not the actual game; it was the fact that poker was really about knowing the people you were playing, observing their every mannerism for tells and how they approached each hand-in essence, it was about watching people in order to learn about them.
And the Doctor had been watching people for a very, very long time.
Before the first hand was through he’d learned Cowboy Hat’s eye twitched when he lucked out on the flop, that Cigar toyed with his wedding ring when bluffing, and that Sunglasses tapped one of his chips when he wanted to raise.
At the same time the Doctor had dropped at least fifteen false tells and had thoroughly confused the entire table.
And then there was Rose; Rose in that stunning dress with an elegant martini glass in her cherry-polished fingers, leaning over his shoulder every so often to whisper in his ear and fuss with his tie, catching the eye of the other three men every time.
It had all been planned in advance, of course, a ploy to distract the rest of the table from the Doctor’s real purpose for being there. Because as the game went on, the Doctor did what he did best: talk.
“So, Billy, it was Billy, wasn’t it? What is it that you do when you’re not raking in scads of chips?”
“I’m in aeronautics.”
“Reaaaally? My, that is such a coincidence! See, the missus and I were thinking about buying some stock in an airline. What sort would you recommend?”
The man in the cowboy hat had to pause for a moment; Rose had begun to suck on an olive and it was doing things to his head.
“Well, I’m not the guy you should be asking, Dr. Smith,” Billy said. “I’m just a factory manager out on the company’s dime. Roger there, he’s the guy to talk to about money. He’s the head of our financial department.” He tipped his hat at the man in the Armani sunglasses.
“Is that so? Well, Roger, I’ve heard there’s a new aircraft that’s just about to hit the market. Essentially a double-decker bus with wings that will cut travel time by almost half. And I’m just curious to know how such a technologically-advanced aircraft was completed without any government subsidizing?”
“That is a very specific question for someone who’s just begun looking into airline stock, Dr. Smith,” the man in the glasses said coldly, his face carefully still and blank.
“Oh, I’m very good at researching, Roger,” the Doctor said with a careless smile. “Always do my homework before I ever commit money to anything.”
“As if you ever have any money,” Rose whispered teasingly in his ear. “Remind me who paid for my drinks tonight?”
“And just where did you find out about this privately funded aeronautical breakthrough?”
“Well, can’t really say exactly where,” the Doctor said glibly. “The Internet is so distracting sometimes, full of twists and turns and cul-de-sacs-”
“And porn,” Rose murmured for his ears only, almost making him skip a beat.
“Interesting. Well, Dr. Smith, just how much money would you be interested in investing?” The man in the glasses tented his fingers.
“How much money do we have lying around in the Caymans, darling?”
“Oh, I dunno, sweetheart,” Rose said with an exaggeratedly snobbish drawl. “Whatever Mummy left us after she sold Cardiff Castle.”
“I see,” the so-called Roger said, straightening his glasses carefully. “Perhaps you could meet with me tomorrow morning to discuss investment options?”
“Splendid! Oh, and I’ll raise twenty-five thousand, if you don’t mind. Would you just look at that! A straight flush! What jolly luck I’m having tonight, eh, mates? Well, it is awfully late, so I think the missus and I will have to call it a night. If you could cash me out, please? Thank you ever so.”
Moments later they were striding confidently out of the Bellagio and making their way towards an impressive multi-colored fountain, Rose’s arm linked in his and her lace shawl dragging behind them in a careless, haughty way.
When they were sure no one from the casino was following them, they dropped the act and laughed, their stiff upper-crust postures melting away into their usual loose-limbed familiarity.
“So we’re in,” Rose said. “And we just walked out of a poker game with sixty thousand dollars. Not a bad night’s work, hmm? We can report back to Lucy and Steven that we’ll be getting to the bottom of this whole dark-suited-blokes-who-never-take-off-their-shades-and-have-impossibly-advanced-technology tomorrow.”
“And as for the rest of the evening, Ms. Tyler?”
“We get a really nice room on the Strip, for starters,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “And then how’s about you give me some poker tips?”
“Ah, but what will we play with? We don’t have any chips.”
“I’m sure we can think of some things to play with…”
---
The Doctor was surprised to find that Rose Tyler was actually quite good at poker, especially when it was strip poker.
Las Vegas, the Sin City, where the games are high-stakes and the temptations are hot.
And then there was Rose; Rose in that stunning dress with an elegant martini glass in her cherry-polished fingers, leaning over his shoulder every so often to whisper in his ear and fuss with his tie, catching the eye of the other three men every time. , 1,102 words
Amazing, really, thought the Doctor as he looked out at the sea of neon, sequins, and feathers, how every planet in the universe had a “Sin” City. So many places devoted to irresponsibility and lost weekends. What did that say about the universe?
While the Doctor hadn’t visited every one of them, he was 100%, well, 95%, well, at least 80% sure that Earth’s Sin City was the loudest, gaudiest, most debauched of the entire bunch. Not even Huxley had such an abundance of fishnet.
And blimey, but those Americans sure knew how to throw a party.
The Doctor had to step quickly to avoid being stepped on by an over-enthusiastic parade of drunks on a bar crawl and tightened his grip on Rose’s hand.
“Doctor, can we stop for a drink?” Rose shouted over the slurred chanting.
“Rose, we’ve more pressing matters to worry about at the mo. We’ve got thirty minutes to get to the TARDIS, get changed, and make it back to the Bellagio before the game starts.”
“Can I at least have a drink when we get there?”
“Can I trust you to stay sharp around those card sharks if you have that drink?”
“I can hold my liquor, Doctor,” she said reprovingly, flashing him that defiant look of a just-grown woman still determined to prove she wasn’t a child any more. As if he could regard her as anything but a woman, with those curves and that mouth…
“Apologies,” he said, navigating the crowded sidewalks of Las Vegas on a Saturday night.
---
“Well? What d’you think?”
She twirled and he found he didn’t know where his voice had gone. Perhaps it had gone to explore that plunging neckline…
“This may be the fanciest thing I’ve ever worn,” Rose went on. “I’ve always wanted a bona fide black dress before. And it’s awfully flattering in front. Yeah, Doctor?” She ran her hands down her sides, leaning forward just enough as a smile that was equal parts Rose Tyler and Marilyn Monroe spread across her face.
That sly minx! She knew exactly what she was doing. He cleared his throat loudly, fiddling needlessly with his bow tie.
“And you look sharp, too,” she said, reaching out to straighten the rosebud he’d slipped through his buttonhole. “Very James Bond.”
“Connery or Moore?”
“Oh, Connery, without a doubt.” There was that smile again. He had an inkling they’d be playing a different sort of game after leaving the casino.
---
The Doctor loved poker.
It was easily one of the best games invented in the universe. What made it so amazing was not the actual game; it was the fact that poker was really about knowing the people you were playing, observing their every mannerism for tells and how they approached each hand-in essence, it was about watching people in order to learn about them.
And the Doctor had been watching people for a very, very long time.
Before the first hand was through he’d learned Cowboy Hat’s eye twitched when he lucked out on the flop, that Cigar toyed with his wedding ring when bluffing, and that Sunglasses tapped one of his chips when he wanted to raise.
At the same time the Doctor had dropped at least fifteen false tells and had thoroughly confused the entire table.
And then there was Rose; Rose in that stunning dress with an elegant martini glass in her cherry-polished fingers, leaning over his shoulder every so often to whisper in his ear and fuss with his tie, catching the eye of the other three men every time.
It had all been planned in advance, of course, a ploy to distract the rest of the table from the Doctor’s real purpose for being there. Because as the game went on, the Doctor did what he did best: talk.
“So, Billy, it was Billy, wasn’t it? What is it that you do when you’re not raking in scads of chips?”
“I’m in aeronautics.”
“Reaaaally? My, that is such a coincidence! See, the missus and I were thinking about buying some stock in an airline. What sort would you recommend?”
The man in the cowboy hat had to pause for a moment; Rose had begun to suck on an olive and it was doing things to his head.
“Well, I’m not the guy you should be asking, Dr. Smith,” Billy said. “I’m just a factory manager out on the company’s dime. Roger there, he’s the guy to talk to about money. He’s the head of our financial department.” He tipped his hat at the man in the Armani sunglasses.
“Is that so? Well, Roger, I’ve heard there’s a new aircraft that’s just about to hit the market. Essentially a double-decker bus with wings that will cut travel time by almost half. And I’m just curious to know how such a technologically-advanced aircraft was completed without any government subsidizing?”
“That is a very specific question for someone who’s just begun looking into airline stock, Dr. Smith,” the man in the glasses said coldly, his face carefully still and blank.
“Oh, I’m very good at researching, Roger,” the Doctor said with a careless smile. “Always do my homework before I ever commit money to anything.”
“As if you ever have any money,” Rose whispered teasingly in his ear. “Remind me who paid for my drinks tonight?”
“And just where did you find out about this privately funded aeronautical breakthrough?”
“Well, can’t really say exactly where,” the Doctor said glibly. “The Internet is so distracting sometimes, full of twists and turns and cul-de-sacs-”
“And porn,” Rose murmured for his ears only, almost making him skip a beat.
“Interesting. Well, Dr. Smith, just how much money would you be interested in investing?” The man in the glasses tented his fingers.
“How much money do we have lying around in the Caymans, darling?”
“Oh, I dunno, sweetheart,” Rose said with an exaggeratedly snobbish drawl. “Whatever Mummy left us after she sold Cardiff Castle.”
“I see,” the so-called Roger said, straightening his glasses carefully. “Perhaps you could meet with me tomorrow morning to discuss investment options?”
“Splendid! Oh, and I’ll raise twenty-five thousand, if you don’t mind. Would you just look at that! A straight flush! What jolly luck I’m having tonight, eh, mates? Well, it is awfully late, so I think the missus and I will have to call it a night. If you could cash me out, please? Thank you ever so.”
Moments later they were striding confidently out of the Bellagio and making their way towards an impressive multi-colored fountain, Rose’s arm linked in his and her lace shawl dragging behind them in a careless, haughty way.
When they were sure no one from the casino was following them, they dropped the act and laughed, their stiff upper-crust postures melting away into their usual loose-limbed familiarity.
“So we’re in,” Rose said. “And we just walked out of a poker game with sixty thousand dollars. Not a bad night’s work, hmm? We can report back to Lucy and Steven that we’ll be getting to the bottom of this whole dark-suited-blokes-who-never-take-off-their-shades-and-have-impossibly-advanced-technology tomorrow.”
“And as for the rest of the evening, Ms. Tyler?”
“We get a really nice room on the Strip, for starters,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “And then how’s about you give me some poker tips?”
“Ah, but what will we play with? We don’t have any chips.”
“I’m sure we can think of some things to play with…”
---
The Doctor was surprised to find that Rose Tyler was actually quite good at poker, especially when it was strip poker.