Sometimes, when the Doctor is off on an adventure, the TARDIS goes on a walk about. This time was no different. He was off doing whatever he does—having adventures with the companions.
He never forgets the TARDIS, of course, how could he-- and there are months, even years at a time when he takes the time to just travel with her.
Her Thief. Her Doctor. But... sometimes she needs her own adventures. And so she goes out.
Its different every time she does this—wills herself corporeal. Something is always just slightly off, and this time isn’t any different. Her hair isn’t quite right, a shade lighter than before But, she thinks, looking at herself in the mirror, she looks much the same as she had last time. She is the same height as before, she's glad to find, about average for a human female. And while her hair isn’t quite the same dark black as before, its still curly as ever, and still tamed (barely) by a ribbon run through it. A passable attempt. The person she is looking for will know her no matter her looks. Always has. A benefit for being friends for decades, she supposes.
By the looks of things on the viewscreen(and the accents) they’ve ended up somewhere in the United States—not Utah, goodness no! Never again if she can help it. And she can. Despite his protestations otherwise, she stole him. Keeping him away from that state for eternity shouldn't be too far beyond her abilities. A quick scan of the area shows her exactly what she'd hoped for--and an unexpected bonus. The Doctor had (once again, quite predictably) gotten side tracked and would be detained for a while.
Idris (she does love that name, really, so lovely) gets quite a few puzzled glances, when she steps out of the phone box. She knows of course, that her appearance is odd for this era, but really, she could avoid trouble in a jiffy—perception filters are old hat to her. That and, gathering by the decorations, she realizes that its near Halloween—perfect time of year for odd clothing choices. And her clothes are odd. A dress that looks like it belongs in the Victorian era, all bustles and ribbons and ruffles. And in her favorite color, a nice true blue. Sturdy boots complete the ensemble. Idris never knows when she'll have to run.
It doesn’t take her long to walk to her destination. It’s always a dinky little bar in an edgier part of town that doesn’t scream danger so much as…unsavory. This bar is no different. The location may change, but there is almost always a drunk in the corner nursing his (sometimes her) sorrows, a group of younger humans dressed in leather and metal, and of course, her.
Idris doesn’t know how she does it, and she’s never asked directly, but nearly every time Idris has come, no matter in the 70’s or later on, or when her Doctor met Rose, then Martha, then Donna— but she has tried to be there. They’ve met on several occasion in several forms. They never plan these things, but they always seem to happen. Like today.
In another corner of the bar, a young woman sits at a lonely table, nursing a drink. Dressed in black leather and jeans, a blue shirt, she has a smirk. on her face. Like she’d been expecting this. Perhaps she is. Idris realizes with a start that today is an anniversary for them, of sorts. The woman stands as Idris approaches her table, an anticipatory gleam in her eye. Idris stops just short of the nearest chair, and the other woman takes a step closer. They say nothing for a moment, just staring at each other.
And then Idris feels a smile blossom over her face. She simply can't help it. “Hello, Imp. It’s been such a long time.”
Imp rolls her eyes. “A long time, she says. It’s been a few years. You wouldn’t believe the stories I have to tell. Got time?” She gestures to the chair closest to Idris, while taking her own.
“All the time in the universe, my friend.”