The guard watched as Doctor Song continued packing. "Where are you going?" He asked her. No use in hiding the fact that she would get out. He had learned the hard way. The last time he tried to stop her, he ended up tied up by his own shirt sleeves wearing nothing but his underwear.

She looked up at him. "Time Vortex, actually. Maybe after that he'll finally let me visit Da Vinci." She started humming, putting a lacy bra into her pack.

"So, is this infamous he your lover or something?" He asked curiously, but still taking care to be out of a slap's reach. Not that the distance could stop her, but it made him feel a little better.

"You could say that, I suppose. He's my husband." she said casually. The guard's eyes widened. "Your file doesn't say that you're married." He said as calmly as possible.

"My file also doesn't say how old I am." She then started actually dressing herself, slipping off her prison uniform. The guard turned his back. No need to get hurt.

"And how would you know that?" he already knew the answer. She was famous in this prison for breaking out and just entertaining herself in general with the resources she had.

"I read it. Half of it's wrong." She told him matter-of-factly. Of course she did. "Doctor Song, will we ever get to meet this husband?" She grinned at him. "Goodness, Paul! He comes every single night. You lot just don't see him."

The guard laughed. The husband is imaginary. Has to be. It makes sense, really. Doctor Song is completely mad. If they're honest, also undeniably powerful. Those things together are extremely dangerous.

She continues humming. "You know what, Paul? You're absolutely right. He's made up. I made him up for fun. But you know what you has to ask yourself?" She leaned her head out the bars towards the back of his ear.

"Where am I every night?"

[feedback would be awesome peoples!]