Well, that wasn't right.
The Doctor squinted at his TARDIS. The box that was supposed to be entirely blue, that had been entirely blue just a few hours earlier, and now had a blocky orange stripe across it.
"That's what you get," Amy said smugly. She was perched on a wall behind him. "Told you not to land in Motherwell, didn't I?"
Waving a hand in a shut up gesture, the Doctor stepped forward to examine the graffiti. He poked at the orange and his finger came away with dabs of paint stuck to it.
"Still wet," said a wise man.
"Yes, thank you, Rory," muttered the Doctor. "Never would've figured that out."
"Just trying to help..."
The Doctor threw an irritated glance Rory's way, then stared at Amy in sudden distraction. "What's that?"
"Hmm?" She blinked mid-swig, then held up her bottle of bright orange liquid questioningly.
"Yes, yes." The Doctor waved his hand again.
"It's disgusting," Rory muttered, and pulled a face. "Look at it. Radioactive."
"It is not," Amy said, and elbowed her husband in the side. She took another swig of the drink, then grinned at the Doctor. "It's Irn Bru."
The Doctor peered at the bottle, turned to examine his blue-and-orange TARDIS again, and nodded in understanding. "Ah."