She'd lost track of the number of places he'd said he'd take her; all those confident promises made with such enthusiasm. Florana, he would say, or Cassiopeia, and off they would go, only to arrive at Exxilon or Antarctica instead.
This time, the door opened to a scene of volcanic rock lit by three moons in the sky, one of them almost full. "Honestly, Doctor!" she said as she surveyed the beautiful, alien landscape. "Why do you even bother to tell me the destination when we never, ever get to where we were supposed to be going?"
"Hmm?" asked the Doctor, looking up from the controls. "Why, where did I say we were going this time?"
"Piccadilly Circus." Then Sarah pushed the door wider so he could have an unobstructed view of the rocky, lava-pocked, triple-mooned splendor beyond.
The Doctor's expression didn't change. "And that's not Piccadilly Circus?" he asked.
"Let's see," replied Sarah acerbically. She pointedly turned to look out the door. "No cars, no neon signs, no hint of a Tube station . . . yes, I'm fairly certain that wherever this is, it is not Piccadilly Circus."
"Fairly certain?" repeated the Doctor. She stuck out her tongue, but he didn't react. "Well, I suppose you're correct and we didn't get to where we were going then." He jammed his hat on his head, and was it her imagination, or had that been a fleeting smile? She couldn’t tell, and he quickly turned his face away as he swept by her to head out the door.
"I just wish that for once, you would get us to the right place!" she yelled at his retreating back.
He turned around, and yes, that was clearly a smile now in the moonlight. "Are you coming?"
"Of course," she said as she closed the door behind her. She joined him, then reached for his hat and placed it on her own head instead. "Just remember you got it wrong again," she told him brusquely. She started down a path that wended its way through the moonlit rocks, and tried her best to hide her own smile. "Now tell me -- after we've finished up here, where will we be going next?"