“Something like, yeah,” the Doctor answered. –in a tone of voice that said ‘no not at all, but that’s alright– He handed the gin and jrezi fruit juice to Sirius, and dug back into his pockets again. “Hang on… ha!’ He pulled out a six pack of Dark Island, a jug of strawberry banana juice, and the rosé, and it was now acutely obvious that all those things shouldn’t have fit into normal pockets.

“Oh, you know, here and there,” he said dismissively, trying to lean forward and get a better look at the wand while making it look like he wasn’t. The Master, meanwhile, had gone back to the scotch as soon as Sirius had mentioned Star Wars. The Doctor still couldn’t blame him –what did it mean, it was impossible, but Mickey was here and the Cheshire Cat and…– “Can’t hang around Earth for too long without picking these things up; you two are relatively famous, you know.”