Liz Shaw does not believe in little blue men with three heads, travelling in flying saucers.
The Doctor says that there is no blue-pigmented, triple-headed species whose members grow to less than eight feet tall. Amongst those that have developed space travel anyway.
She does believe in tall humanoid aliens who have only one head (although quite a large one) and would travel in a police box if they could but who have to settle for a yellow souped-up vintage roadster they call Bessie.
Well, one, at any rate. She can’t quite believe that the universe could support more than one Doctor. And not believing in him would require a superhuman effort at this particular moment, as the Doctor demonstrates just how clever he can be with his hands and she shudders and cries out. Not believing in the Doctor would involve ignoring all her senses and she’s rather enjoying the messages they’re sending her as he begins to kiss his way up towards the hem of her miniskirt.
Not believing in Bessie would also be awkward; her back seat is much more comfortable than the floor would be. She pushes back against it, making it squeak, and stretches out the leg the Doctor is not currently attending to, her foot accidentally-on-purpose brushing across the bulge in his trousers and eliciting an intake of breath against her skin, which she likes, so she does it again. The Doctor seems to like it too.
There is a small part of Liz Shaw that refuses to believe in any of this, in anything she’s learned since leaving Cambridge and would laugh, derisively, or more likely if she didn’t ignore it entirely, be coldly sarcastic at the idea of shagging a brilliant, impossible alien on the back seat of an open-top vintage car at the headquarters of Alien Defence while taking a break from trying to repair said alien’s timeship.
It might be a rebellion against this, or that same part of herself trying to see how far the dream will go, which causes her to make the suggestion, when the Doctor asks after her fantasies, that they have a roll in the hay. Literal hay as opposed to metaphorical. And that they should invite the Brigadier to join in.
“That, my dear Liz,” the Doctor declares, “is one of the cleverest ideas your brilliant mind has ever come up with!”
Later, the Brigadier agrees with him.
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