"Push harder girl!"

"I'm trying as hard as I can! It won't fit, it's too big!"

"Why don't you try sitting on it? Your weight might..."

Bracing himself, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart slammed open the door to the Doctor's lab and rushed in with his eyes lowered, hoping not to see anything at all.

"Alright you two!" he bellowed as he entered, pausing when he didn't hear frantic scrambling to hide and throw on clothing.

"Yes Brigadier?" the Doctor asked mildly from his spot at the lab table where he was latching a box his assistant was sitting on closed.

"While I'm glad you've found yourself a new assistant after Miss Grant left, I've come to talk about your behavior." the Brigadier said.

"My behavior?" the Doctor asked.

"When you were hired by U.N.I.T., it was expected that you would keep to a certain code of conduct while you were on duty." the Brigadier said, not wanting to have this discussion with a man who looked like he was old enough to be his father, and was actually old enough to be a distant ancestor.

"How have I not?" asked the Doctor who was helping his assistant off the table, looking honestly curious.

"In the two weeks since your new assistant arrived, you've broken the moral clause of your contract several times." the Brigadier said.

"How have I done that?" the Doctor asked, looking bewildered.

"You had her help you quote service your thing unquote while you were on shift three times." the Brigadier said, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Two weeks earlier:

"So, what's this called?" the Doctor's new assistant asked as she poked something that almost looked like it was breathing which had wires sticking out of it in every direction.

"Its name is unpronouncable by humans, and it doesn't have an English equivalent." the Doctor replied as he gestured for one of the green wires out of the bundles of colored wires that his assistant was holding.

"I wouldn't have minded it so much, but you've also had her lubricate the piston of your actuator..."

A week before:

The Doctor's assistant stared up at the massive bronze alien museum piece that took up a football stadium sized room of the TARDIS in amazement. The bucket of foul smelling slime the Doctor had handed her before leading her there nearly dropped from her hand when a massive blown glass orb passed by overhead, giving off a brilliant blue-green radiance that nearly blinded her.

"Careful!" the Doctor snapped as he steadied the bucket before leading her through the labrynthine depths of the massive and incredibly ancient mechanical clock that accurately measured the passage of time in a long-gone solar system which the Doctor had filched shortly before it was to be destroyed.

The closest English equivalent of its title didn't do it justice, and its actual name was just as incomprehensible to her as "Big Ben" would be to the creators of the clock which continued ticking on heedless of the destruction of the society that had created it.

"...and spent seven hours 'polishing a table'..."

Five days before:

"You've scratched it!" the Doctor exclaimed, pointing to the long gouge in the varnish that had been created by the assistant's ring which marred the beauty of an exceedingly exquisite end table.

"I'll fix it! I promise!" the assistant said.

Giving her an almost petulant glare, the Doctor stormed out of the room, only to storm back in several minutes later with woodworking supplies and an instruction manual which he practically threw at his assistant.

"...and spent three hours 'making the bed' in the guest bedroom..."

Three days before:

The Doctor's assistant stood in the middle of a four-way intersection. Each of the corridors which branched off of it was identical, and to complicate matters, she had misplaced the hand-drawn map that the Doctor had given her earlier.

"Now, which way was I supposed to go again?"

"Just yesterday, the two of you spent the entire lunch hour playing with his weasel!"

The day before:

"He's soooo adorable!" the Doctor's assistant exclaimed as she picked up the small brown and white weasel that she'd been playing fetch with and crushed it against her chest.

"Do stop smothering the poor thing." the Doctor said over his shoulder as he replaced the newspaper in the weasel's cage.

"Brigadier, exactly what does Riley have to do with the morality clause in my contract with U.N.I.T.?"

"You mean you actually have a...?"

"Yes."

"Dear Lord!"

Meanwhile on Gallifrey:

"I can tell you right now that the Doctor isn't having fun where he's at." the Time Lord who'd come to report to the Lord President said. "All those rumors about humans being promiscuous and willing to engage in sexual acts with anybody and everybody are just that."

"Really?" the Lord President asked. "I heard that in what they call the Fifty-first century they..."

"I visited Earth during the era in which the Doctor is staying, and found them to be generous and hospitable with many strange customs and hobbies rather than promiscuous as has been claimed." the other Time Lord said.

The Lord President gestured for him to continue.

"I went to several of the bars, nightclubs and dance clubs that were said to be dens of iniquity where one could indulge in any number of vices and have random encounters with any number of people. During my tour of such facilities which seemed rather limited in regards to vices on offer, I received several invitations to breakfast, an invitation to roll around in dried grass, two invitations to engage in acrobatics in a bag, and an invitation to dance on a mattress." the Time Lord replied.

"Seriously?" the Lord President asked incredulously, his eyebrows shooting towards his receding hairline.

"Seriously." the Time Lord confirmed.

"Well, it would seem that I wasn't mistaken in my choice regarding the Doctor's location of exile despite what the people who seem to think he's having more fun where he's at than he would be here have been saying." the Lord President said, dismissing the Time Lord who had given his report.

The dismissed Time Lord made his way through the Citadel on his way to his quarters, being stopped when he was halfway home by an attractive female Time Lord whom he'd gone to the Academy with and had run into several times since.

"Do you want to have sexual intercourse on every available flat surface in my quarters?" she asked.

"Yes." he replied as he followed her to her quarters and did exactly as advertised.

Time Lords didn't do innuendo.