It’s a beautiful romance. He calls her Miss Tyler for a week after they meet. When he finally calls her Rose he can’t stop saying it.
He takes afternoon tea while she craves chips. They both love sweet shops.
He teaches her how to waltz in the console room and the language of flowers. She keeps him on his toes, always asking the right questions and saving him when he needs it. It’s a full time job, she thinks.
Sometimes it’s earth with endless bookstore trips along the Seine, where she finds him the perfect first edition Wilde on the top shelf and around the corner. Brilliant, she is.
Sometimes it’s planets and galaxies even he hasn’t been to. The places they discover are sewn together with moss and foam, vales of glass, civilizations of dew and bones, floating market places, and glowing bazaars.
They’ve been chased out of more dinner parties they can count, they’ve run from monsters in a frock coat and gown, and explored catacombs armed with nothing more than a screwdriver and fob watch.
It’s a hectic, runaway life aboard the TARDIS and, honestly, they wouldn’t have it any other way.