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. I was just telling my, well, my 'friends' about our, ah, encounter the other night and they were wondering if they could, um, meet you." How many of you are there?" she asked in disbelief."Twelve-ah-thirteen," he corrected himself."Thirteen? Who do I look like, Bilbo fucking Baggins?" Listen, Amy, if we could all just come in for a cup of tea, I'm sure I can explain..."Amy begrudgingly let them into her house, one after another. They all seemed to be eyeing her rather hungrily, which didn't bother her– she was, after all, a kissogram– but it did seem strange that the Doctor would invite such men into her house. Didn't he want her to himself?They spread themselves out around the first floor as Amy sat on the kitchen countertop, crossing her long legs, which had only the rather skimpy nightie to cover them up. The other Doctors were already clearly enjoying themselves. Amy folded her arms and looked expectantly at Eleven for an explanation."Look, Amy," he said. "I know for you it was. We used to tease her: ‘Zazie, darling, you’ll be late for your own funeral!”All is white. A radiant, heavenly white. Six elegantly-dressed women are languidly seated or stretched over six chaise lounges chairs, all upholstered in heavily-brocaded cream silk, decorated with fine gold threads. Perched on the topmost arms of several of the chairs are small clusters of winged cherubs, some of whom are feeding grapes to the women. Others play together like kittens.The floor is formed of dazzlingly-bright white marble slabs side-lit by shafts of golden sunshine. In the centre is a carved marble fountain bubbling with sparkling wine. High above (in place of a fixed ceiling), white silk drapes are suspended from golden chains which seem to extend up into the clouds. Strains of the Lacrimosa from Mozart’s ‘Requiem’ waft through the space.A pair of long gilded doors are swung open revealing, beyond, a slow-moving gold escalator rising from a lower level. Instead of black rubber, its handrails.
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