They Dance There, They Dance TherePairing:
62, springWord Count:
Takes place during City of Death.
"This guidebook," Romana said, peering at it seriously, "says that Paris is the city of love."
"Does it, does it?" The Doctor was half listening, far more interested in how she was keeping her hat at such an improbable angle. Pins, no doubt, unless she'd rigged up a gravity device of some sort. "Well, it's a terribly romantic city, Paris. Especially in the Spring. You can hardly cross the street without somebody trying to kiss you or whisk you away for a debauched weekend in Saint Moritz. Although that only happened to me the once."
She was awfully pretty when she frowned. It was a surprising thought, and followed by the equally surprising one that she was awfully pretty all of the time.
"I've been here for nearly three days," she said, closing the book with a snap. "And not even one person's tried to kiss me."
Well, there was only one sensible response to that.