He had spent the last several hours preparing for a party that would be taking place in a large mansion just outside of London. The party was run by a Mr. Finnis, a very wealthy and entirely too ambitious internet mogul whom the Doctor had only heard about in passing and in newspapers. That is, he'd only heard about him in passing and in newspapers until the Doctor had heard of him from the dying refugee from Saxorcoro 9 who said that Mr. Finnis had stolen the core of his ship, believing the dangerous material to be a precious jewel. The Doctor's trusty psychic paper secured him a place in the party and his tuxedo secured the fact that he would not stand out too terribly among the other guests at the lavish party.
And what a lovely party it was. There was a string quartet playing something lovely by Mozart (bizarre chap, but very talented), the entire ballroom and the large outdoor balcony was lit up with beautiful, multilayered candles and dim LED lights that flickered in order to create the illusion of being candles, and the table was set with a wide variety of foods and nibbles, something for every palate. As he passed by one of the many displays of huge, velvety roses, the Doctor thought to himself that Donna would like it here at this party.
He stopped at that thought and chewed a little on the inside of his lip. He did not like to think often of Donna and often wished that, like her, he could simply remove her memory from his mind and not worry on it. But, seeing as Time Lords rarely forgot anything, he knew he would have to handle her memory from time to time. He handled the thought of her awkwardly, the way one might handle an unexpected guest at a most inopportune moment. As gracefully as possible, before shooing it away and promising to see it at another time.
He took a glass of champagne from the table and scanned the room. Yes, he was most certainly in over his head. Too many guards at the doors, too many guests about, and no real idea where Mr. Finnis had hidden the core of the ship.