• You sure know what you're doin'
Holdin' me this way
And I'll go where you lead me
Anywhere you say
You've got me where you want me
So Darlin' please be kind
Before you take it all
And I make that final fall
You've got to keep in mind
(That) I'm a new fool at an old game
A kid out of school tryin' to find my way
But I don't know the rules, (so) teach me how to play
I'm just a new fool at an old game.... •
She reminds you, in many ways, of yourself.
It's in the way she dances, in the way she holds herself. She's older in her heart than she is on the outside, just like you do. She tosses her long, ginger hair back and laughs at something one of her girlfriends says, but it's all show.
She reminds you of someone you used to know. Someone who left you. Maybe that's why you tilt your wide-brimmed hat back and head over to the table. Sure, she's tall and curvy and ginger, not short, petite, and blonde, but she's got the same grin. The same fire in her eyes.
"I beg your pardon, ladies," you say, and they all look a little surprised at your appearance and grin. You turn to the ginger woman. "Would you dance with me?"
She looks to the girls like this is some big joke, but takes your hand without a question to you. You take her to the dance floor.
The song is slow and unfamiliar, but you dance to it anyway. She gives you an odd look.
She smiles at you as she puts a hand to your shoulder, but her expression, while flattered, is unimpressed. You're not her type, you figure. Too eccentric, maybe a bit too old. "No offense, mate, but I don’t think I'd be dancing with you right now if I didn't have two pints in me already." The honesty is refreshing, you think. You know (if you do say so yourself) that you're charming, but having someone tell you that you're only charming when they're a little drunk feels more genuine than all the fake laughs in the world.
She'd do that, you think. Even before she was blonde, even back when she was regal and brunette, she'd always tell you how things were.
"Well, that's all right," you say. "I'm not entirely sure I'd be dancing with you if I wasn't in the same predicament." And if you weren't missing the one that only too recently had gotten away.
You smile widely, though, and it's mostly fake, and her expression changes. It isn't the same smile from before, it's almost awed, like she can't figure you out.
"You've got such an interesting smile, though," she says. "It's like I---Like I know your smile, like I've seen it before."
"Oh, I used to have a friend who told me I was many men, and that was why my ego was so inflated."
"Sounds like a brilliant girl, that one." Her smile changes again, and you're surprised by how much one woman can say with that simple turn of the lips. Now, she's empathic. She understands. "Let her get away, did you?"
"Quite presumptuous of you," you say.
"Yeah, well, I know that smile of yours when you talk about her. You all right?"
"I'm always all right." It's something you've only just decided has to be true about yourself. You have to always be all right. Even when your companion is unemotionally standing by the food table and you're grieving for a love you've lost. You have to.
"Is that the kind of all right that's really, really not all right?" she asks.
You smile again, and this time it is almost entirely genuine. It's strange, to dance with someone who truly understands. And, even though you have never met her before, you feel like you have always known this woman.
Time is like that.
She picks a piece of lint off of your long scarf, and even though the song changes to something more upbeat, she doesn't pull away from your arms.
"Come on, Smiler," she says. "Let's have one more dance to make it really all right, eh?"
Muse: The Doctor (Four)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 622