«[The Doctor] rolled his eyes and turned to Rose, pulling her away from the crowd and behind a large bit of decorative plastic that was apparently meant to be a plant. Bugger, bugger, bugger. “Rose, remember when I told you I’d been to one of these [conventions] before?”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “But you said you couldn’t remember.”
“I just did,” he said, with a sigh. “It’s this one.”
“What?” she demanded. “Where?” Her eyes darted every which way, as if trying to catch a glimpse of pin stripes, or possibly leather, in the crowd around them.
The Doctor shook his head. “Here are the rules. Absolutely no mention of the Time War or the Daleks is to cross your lips. Understand?”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But can’t we just…”
“Do not under any circumstances refer to me as the Last of the Time Lords.”
“I don’t,” she said. “That’s all you. Can’t we…”
“And do not ask his companion for her real name, as I’m rather fond of you and want to keep you around.”
Rose’s eyes went huge. “OK,” she said slowly. “But why don’t we just avoid you?” she added.
The Doctor stared at her in surprise, then looked at the huge crowd around them. “Good idea,” he said. “Let’s try it.”
“Excuse me,” said a vaguely Scottish voice behind him, “what do you think you’re doing here?”