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"I never used to like raw food," Rose said conversationally, spearing a piece of red ... something, (she hadn't caught its name when the waiter described the dish) and popping it into her mouth.
She let it sit on her tongue a minute, breathed in through her mouth and out her nose to get its full essence as Jack had taught her, then bit down and felt a brief resistance snap into liquid delight. "But, oh my god, that's good."
She tried something else, a cluster of olive-tinted ovoids she assumed were plant life, rolling them across her tongue then chewing slowly and swallowing. Her eyes closed in appreciation.
"Mum'd never believe this," she said, eyes still closed. "She never met a vegetable she liked, unless she could beat it into submission with 40 minutes in a double-boiler."
She stopped talking, smiling in anticipation as she forked a small amount of the lightly chopped purple and red slaw-ish side dish and prepared to savor it.
Behind her, the light of two suns shone through leaded-glass windows and threw a puzzle of gold and blue-lit shadows across the restaurant walls. Somewhere down the street the TARDIS waited for their unhurried return. No wars to escape this time, no assassinations to stop, no murders to solve; just a tiny restaurant that seated perhaps 20, a menu that sampled cuisines from multiple star systems and changed at the whim of the chef, and dishes that Rose thought might bring her as close to gastronomic heaven as she'd ever get.
"Better than chips?"
The Doctor might have been expecting Rose to disagree; she merely rolled her eyes at him, and took a sip from the crystal goblet next to her. She had a palate to clear, and more things on her plate to experience.
Jack watched his pupil with satisfaction, the Doctor watched her with unalloyed delight. Then they looked at each other and grinned, united in the joy of seeing the woman they adored open one more door and step through to find wonder.