“Professor...” Ace whined, stripped down to a t-shirt and shorts and wearing a towel around her neck. “When are you gonna get the heating fixed on this thing?”
“Soon enough, Ace. And she’s not a thing.” The Doctor was somewhat irate at her dismissal of his ship. They were both hot, and tension was running high, as if the Doctor, Ace and the TARDIS were about to explode all at once. His cravat lay abandoned on one of the armchairs, his sleeves rolled up and his waistcoat undone. The temperature was too high to think, let alone argue.
“Yeah, yeah. She’s a fine-crafted piece of technology human minds can’t understand, I know.”
Ace recited from memory, having been lectured the same thing every single time she’d asked to fly the TARDIS. She slumped down on a chair, folding her arms grumpily. Watching the Doctor fiddle with various wires and buttons, desperately trying to figure out what was wrong, she slid down the chair lazily.
“Don’t you have a manual or something?” Ace grumbled.
“Why would I need a silly thing like that?”
“UGH!” shouted Ace, and out of pure frustration, she slumped on the floor dramatically.
After about fifteen minutes of tinkering about, the Doctor punched the console. It gave a loud beep and the thermostat settings returned to normal by some miraculous fluke.
“See? I fixed it.”
Ace was not impressed.