River Song took her time coming around.
Still finding herself lying atop Lethbridge-Stewart's desk, she gave a lazy smile.
She pulled the Brigadier's greatcoat to closer around her as she propped herself up on one elbow.
"Doctor? You still there, sweetie?"
"I'm right here, Ms. Song."
She looked up, to find in her astonishment that the Doctor was already fully clothed, engaged in straightening out one of those fantastic lace cuffs.
She smirked at him. "I swear, only you would call me 'Ms.' anything after what we just did.""
He gave her a kindly and debonair smile, and nodded to a pile of clothes at the foot of the desk.
"I trust you will have those cleaned and back in place before Alistair notices his dress uniform is gone."
She sat up, letting the greatcoat fall away. "Always the fastidious one."
She surprised herself, and nodded meekly. "Yes, Doctor."
He looked at the pile, then back to her. "Oh, I'm sorry. You were wearing those when I came in, weren't you?"
She winked at him, and grabbed her purse. "Not to worry, sweetie."
She pulled out a small case, opened it, and pulled out a slinky black dress and matching heels.
"I can't let you wear that here, you know," said the Doctor. "Not after the ruckus you stirred up last time." He produced a large packet and handed it to her.
She ripped it open to find a a UNIT female officer's uniform. "Thoughtful," she said. "Won't I look kind of frumpy, though?"
He just smiled and shook his head. "Try it on."
She pulled on the various pieces, then checked the fit. It was perfectly tailored, showing off every curve and nuance, while still being completely military and professional.
"I like it," she said. She grinned "I don't think this will create any less of a sensation, though."
The Doctor shrugged. "I can but try."
She gathered the scattered pieces of the Brigadier's abused dress uniform with his help, and was out the door beside him as he left.
"You should have seen number eleven," she said. "He was so-"
"No spoilers," he said. "I know you've been with my... later selves as well, but I will not hear any more."
He handed her a leather diary, embossed with the TARDIS.
"Any time you feel like telling me about a future event, I suggest writing it in here instead. It should help you keep track of you are on my personal timeline as well."
She smiled as she accepted it, riffling through the pages. She then frowned in concern
"Why... why don't any of them remember us?"
"Regeneration trauma, I expect," he said. "Great swaths of knowledge, lost to us all."
He stared off, a troubled frown on his face.
She looked around. "So, Jo-"
"We had an agreement not to speak of her," he said.
"Sorry. Still on vacation, I presume?"
"Yes. Oh, I almost forgot!" He reached into his pocket and produced a small parcel. "The devices I said I would make for you," he said, handing it to her.
She looked affronted. "I'd only wanted training on TARDIS piloting. He's too busy."
"I see. My own TARDIS is not functional at the moment, but perhaps I could drill you on the controls."
At her outburst of giggles, his gloved hand smacked her firmly on the rump. "You know what I meant!"