Inspired by Chameleon Circuit's Still Not Ginger. This just popped into my head—Nine, Ten and Eleven sitting at a bar, and Nine is rather disturbed by Eleven's dining choices. Ten, of course, is always up for a challenge.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, nor do I own Chameleon Circuit.

The Doctor chewed his fish finger nervously. They were staring.

He adjusted his bowtie, moved his fez to a jauntier angle, and cleared his throat meaningfully.

They were still staring.

The bar wasn't very crowded at this time of night. In fact, he was the only patron there, apart from the two men scrutinizing his every move. The taller man sat next to him on the barstool, while the other stood behind him, arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"That's disgustin'," he declared in a strong northern accent. The Doctor shifted uncomfortably as his critic eyed him with disdain. The man sitting beside him just stared in morbid fascination as he swirled another fish finger around the bowl and popped it into his mouth.

"Did you hit your head this time 'round? Honestly, that's the only way this could have happened." He was sorely tempted to retort with a comment about leather fetishes, but decided to keep it to himself. He really wished their compatriot would say something by now. This was getting awkward.

He glanced over to the man in pinstripes, but he was transfixed by the fish fingers. It was amazing, really. He'd been quiet for a whole two minutes.

"The worst part," he confessed, "is that it's actually kind of tasty. . . "

The man in the leather jacket just rolled his eyes, but the pinstriped man seemed to come to a decision. He took a large gulp from the banana daiquiri on the counter and picked up a fish finger. Dipping it into the bowl of custard, he saluted his counterparts cheerfully.

"Aaallons-y!" And with that, he swallowed the fish finger in one go.

"I can't believe I'm going to be you two someday. Bloody fantastic."