“So when’s your birthday?” Rose asks, between bites of the birthday cake her mum has provided. “I could get you a cake, and maybe we could have a party. You know, celebrate in style.”
The Doctor shrugs. “I don’t do birthdays. Not much point when you get to my age. Anyway, the Gallifreyan calendar and the earth calendar don’t match up, and with all the travelling through time, who can keep track? It might have been yesterday, or last month, or a week from next Thursday.”
“That’ll do.” Rose grins. “Should be just enough time to get you a present.”