Verse: Canon
Word Count: 618


As Alistair stepped out of his car, he quietly mused over the situation. He was, for all purposes, going car shopping, something he hadn't done since he was a younger man. This sort of thing was what he always figured would be something he'd do if he had a son; come sixteen or seventeen, take the young man out to get his very first automobile. A right of passage, if you would.

Instead, he was at a car lot with an alien much older than he was, but with all the energy and excitement of a teenage boy - at least, at the moment. He grinned just a bit at the sight. The Doctor had already gone out to inspect and investigate; Alistair was little more than an observer now. His only say so was whether or not something was within UNIT budget. In a way, it almost was like taking a teenage boy for his first car, but he'd never utter a word of that to the Doctor.

Alistair pocketed his keys, closed the door to his car, and began to casually walk to where the Doctor was standing. The man was inspecting a deep blue auto, quite obviously lost in thought. Alistair figured he was doing some sort of mathematical analysis, weighting one against the other to find the most suitable and efficient car in the lot.

"You know, Lethbridge-Stewart, they've got the prices on these marked all wrong," the Doctor commended to him when he was within range. "For this make and model, it ought to be two hundred pounds less. Not to mention, it has a bit of rust on the undercarriage; that's another hundred at least."

"We're not here to judge whether or not they're overpriced, Doctor," Alistair said. "As long as it's under the numbers I've told you, I've no problem with the owners trying to make a bit of money."

The Doctor gave him a bit of a side glance before sniffing just a bit. "I wasn't particularly interested in this one anyway. It isn't the right colour."

Alistair shook his head as the Doctor moved off again. He had a very distinct feeling that this was going to take quite a few hours, all of them including the Doctor finding some sort of flaw in the mechanics, the colour, the upholstery, the year, the model, or something else. He was hoping the Doctor wouldn't be quite so picky - he hadn't exactly packed any sort of lunch and didn't fancy waiting around for the Doctor to give up on this lot and request another.

Luckily, it only took an hour or so before he heard the Doctor call out his last name, along with a bit of a bark of 'come here, will you?' He didn't quicken his pace, seeing as there was no real reason for urgency as far as he knew. The Doctor was standing next to a canary-yellow roadster, something of a Ford model, or so Alistair guessed. He was no expert on cars.

"Come to a decision, Doctor?"

The Doctor beamed at him and gestured at the roadster. "I have, my dear Brigadier."

"You're certain?"

"Of course I am!" the Doctor huffed. "I've checked everything over, and she's a fine automobile."

Alistair nodded and glanced at the price; it was just barely within the number he had told the Doctor on the way out there. He should have expected as such. "Fine, fine. I'll go see someone about it now."

The Doctor turned away from him and waved his hand as if to dismiss him. "You go do that, Lethbridge-Stewart. Paperwork always has been one of the few things you excelled at."

As he walked away, he rolled his eyes just a bit. That man really could be ungrateful sometimes.