"I'm just saying, Doctor, you don't have to look all rumpled all the time," Polly said, digging her way through an endless line of coats.
"I like looking rumpled," he protested. "I should hardly get anything done at all if I had to worry about keeping my clothes neat." He was beginning to regret showing her where the wardrobe was, because after the initial shock wore off she was completely undaunted by its size.
"The other you stopped a whole great gang of robots and a living computer in one day and he still looked perfectly nice."
"Did I now."
"That's what Ben told me. And he had on a frock coat that fit him right, too." She pulled a long red overcoat off of the rack, examined it critically, looked briefly at him, then shook her head and dove back into her search.
"This frock coat has survived world wars, I'll have you know. Can't say that about just any coat."
She laughed. "Too bad it looks it, then."
The Doctor gave her his best insulted scowl, which only made her laugh more. "Come on, Doctor. You looked just lovely when they got you cleaned up at the Colony!"
"They only cleaned us up so we'd be primed for hypnosis, Polly!"
"So you had to muss up your hair, did you? To keep them from taking over your mind?" She stopped giggling long enough to look at him, her gaze drifting upward. "You know, I think that might just be it."
"What might just be it?"
"Your hair! I'll just straighten it out; you'll look better in no time. Hold still…" From one of her pockets she suddenly brandished a comb.
"Oh no no no no." The Doctor backed away, only to find his back up against the coat rack. "Polly," he protested, holding up his hands as a last line of defense, "there is nothing wrong with my hair."
"Oh, stop squirming, Doctor. You know, you might not have known it, traveling in a TARDIS full of boys, but you really do look smashing when you pay a little attention to your appearance."
"Well, thank you, but —" he dodged as she raised the comb again. "- but I really don't think this is at all necessary —"
He tried to duck out of her reach once more, but at that Polly placed one hand firmly on his shoulder and (quite unexpectedly) kissed him. This had the unfortunate effect of immobilizing him for a moment or two while he tried to figure out what exactly she was doing.
And it was in that moment or two that Polly discreetly brought the comb to his head and began — impressively, considering her obstructed vision — to fix his hair.