Disclaimer: I own neither Doctor Who or 9 To 5 The Musical. I do own Reilly.
The Doctor flipped out the psychic paper in a man's face, The man read off it, "Stage Maintenance Inspector? Um, where are you meant to be sir?"
The Doctor slapped it against his leg, it could have just made a ticket, stupid device was meant to have a lifetime warranty. Why you should never trust a 51st Century salesman. "Dress Circle today, my good fella."
The man nodded, "That way sir." Pointing at a cluster of people around a surprisingly small door. The Doctor thanked him and walked over to the crowd, "'Scuse me, Stage Maintenance... Sorry gents.... Could I just get past ma'am? Stage Inspectorate...."
The Doctor collapsed into an unfilled seat, and watched as the hall filled around him, a man walked up to him, "What do you think you're doing on my seat?"
The Doctor turned, his mouth dropped open. He shifted along one seat, looking away, in an evident attempt to cover his shock. He never quite got used to the human aging process, he knew them and then, ten years later he came across them again and their skin had withered, or sagged. Sure enough she, like Sarah Jane still looked wonderful but... She was older.
But, he reminded himself, I've been places where she's dust, less than dust. At least she's alive.
He watched her greet a man, who looked slightly confused for a second before he said quietly, "I'm sorry, but I think you're in my seat."
The Doctor groaned, "I think someone may have been messing with my seats. Someone," he scowled, to the confusion of Grace and her husband, at his jacket pocket, in which his psychic paper lay. "Told me my seat was there, so I moved along a seat, and it's not even here."
"It's fine Mr..."
"Smith, erm, John Smith. Um, Doctor Smith." The Doctor stuttered.
"Doctor, it's fine," he smiled. "It's happened to me before, Broadway'll get a reputation for this soon."
"I just hope no-one shifts me from this seat, I'm running out of places to move to."
The man held out his hand, "I'm Marc, by the way."
"Good to meet you, Marc."
As the lights dimmed, Marc was forcefully pulled down by Grace. Quickly the Doctor skimmed through his programme. He loved Earth theatre. He leant back to watch the show.
The male lead on stage, took a sip of the coffee offered to him by the, "I think you put something in here."
The six foot actress, the Doctor was sure he had seen in something before, laughed, "Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"
"I think you poisoned my coffee... Why?"
The woman, you could see through the binoculars, arched her eyebrows. "Why do you think?"
"Because I'm a sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot?"
"Bingo," Violet grinned.
There was an explosion below, followed by a ray of light, the actor's on stage froze. After a shocked second the audience noticed fire, and screaming and panic arose. Grace, grabbed Marc's wrist and begun to move away before noticing the stationary Doctor, frowning at the area where the stream of light had beamed. "Doctor, aren't you...." She trailed off staring at him in equal shock to the way he had looked at her earlier. Marc pulled her off; she continued gawp as she moved away.
The stage had emptied all but for the actor who had been portraying Franklin Hart Junior, who was also staring curiously into the pits of the stall where a fire blazed. His gaze shifted when he suddenly saw a figure climbing from the Circle. He watched in astonishment as the man let go...
The Doctor flew down through the hair, hoping his natural Cheem Rope would hold as well as he'd been promised, the roots at the top spread, grapple like over the Circle ledge speeding him down. An inch from the ground he stopped, heart racing he tugged it gently. Falling into his pocket he patted it, "Good rope."
Still panting he headed, curious as always for the purple tinted flames. "Aaaah," He grinned, his mouth agape in delight. "Griers Fire. I haven't seen Griers in years. You are gorgeous." The flames despite licking around the pit, was not harming the theatre, "And showing proper respect for a theatre, not razing the place to ground. If that's not polite I don't know what is." The fire leaned towards him in recognition. "We should find some way to get you out of here before, those nasty UNIT people arrive."
From behind him a female voice sounded, "Is that an optical illusion or something?"
The Doctor turned to see a brown haired man with side burns, wearing stage costume. "Was that you?"
"Yes." The actor sounded irritated, "I understudy the male roles as well as the females," Her voice deepened, "because I can do this."
"Right. Optical- Yes, that's exactly..." He grabbed her wrist, "Okay, no touch."
"If it's an illusion what can it do?"
"It's not an illusion, it can burn your arm off in less than a millisecond."
"No touch," she nodded, before stepping back. "So what is it?"
"Grier Fire, it's an alien... lifeform, I suppose you could say. But sometimes they can be a bit nasty. As friendly as this one seems... Well, would you want someone sticking their hand in you."
"Fair point," She held out her hand to him, "Reilly McLeod."
"The Doctor, you know, you're taking this very well."
Ignoring the second comment, Reilly grimaced, "The Doctor? Why do doctor's never just give you their name. I gave you mine and you answer, "Doctor". Manners would suggest that you give me your name."
"No, it is just... The Doctor. Just the Doctor."
"Right. Sure. If that's the way you want to work." Reilly scratched one of her sideburns. "Are you going to do something about it?" She pointed at the flames, which were steadily turning a deeper purple.
The Doctor who had been staring at her, snapped back to focus, "Yes, ah, do something... I should shouldn't I?"
"Well you're the one with all the expertise. Doctor." Reilly's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Molto bene." The Doctor grinned.
Well? What do you think of Reilly?