River was in her element. There was something about her that simply sparkled in this atmosphere. Surrounded by the super-rich and over-educated, champagne glass delicately perched between her fingers and a roguish grin plastered on her lips, River looked every bit the New York City socialite she was playing. In all honesty, she was hardly interested in what the odious man in front of her was saying. Something about fiscal responsibility blah blah, corporate sponsorship blah blah; it was physically difficult for her not to role her eyes in response. She was here for one reason only—the charity auction held later that evening, in which relics of untold worth would be hauled out away from their protective cases and laid bare to her deft hands. One of these relics had a worth more untold than the rests, and would catch her enough at the Rings market to live very comfortably for a few… decades at least. She snipped back, right on cue, “You are a devil, sir,” and the undeserving object of her affections practically preened in response. This continued like the ebb and flow of the sea, patterned and performed and pretty boring, until a familiar feeling sent a tingling down her spine. Time energy. The Doctor? Her feet moved entirely of their own bidding, so startled by the revelation of this energy. She closed her eyes and sought it out. Something wasn’t right, it didn’t feel familiar the way the Doctor’s presence did. Perhaps if she had been more than part time-lord, she would have immediately known, but River had no choice but to follow the sensation into the next room where the bar sat on the far wall. “Now… which one of you is the big bad time lord?” She muttered under her breath giving a flourish to the stunning ball gown (which hugged her in all the right places, if she did say so) she’d picked for the affair.