eightandonly
Charley looked furious. Beyond furious.
She was drenched from head to toe in what could only be described as viscous blue-green fluid. She'd dressed up all nicely for what was supposed to be an 'Edwardian adventure,' but now the silk dress was ruined, the vibrant aniline dye running and colouring the puddles of snot at her feet. It was staining her hair, previously so neatly styled and pinned that instead now hung around her face in limp, sticky coils.
"And where the hell have you been?"
Her voice was shrill, squeaky in the way it got when Charlotte Pollard became enraged. She stood, fists by her sides, shoulders hunched, eyes narrowed at the Time Lord as she advanced towards him, teeth gritted.
"You had better have a good excuse for leaving me alone down there. Time Lord or not, I've half a mind to beat you with my shoe -- maybe then you'd get some bloody sense knocked into you!"
