Author's Note: This is my interpretation of why Sylvia looks ready to cry when the Tenth Doctor relates how he bought Donna's wedding present.

It was a perfectly ordinary Thursday, it was true, but it caused an undue amount of stress in the Noble household. Donna was mostly spared-she was enjoying a full day at her latest office-but the dishwasher had broken the dishwasher on Monday and that lack of consideration was something that Sylvia took almost personally. The man from the repair shop had sworn on his mother's life that he would arrive no later than ten, but by the time Geoffrey headed to the doctor's office, he still hadn't turned up.

He switched off his mobile on the way into the office, but found four messages of increasing vehemence from his wife when he left.

"Not to worry,' he said cheerfully when she called a minute later. "Dr. Fredericks says that other than a touch of high cholesterol, I'm healthy as a…"

"Never mind that," Sylvia snapped. "That idiot of a repairman just arrived and I'm not leaving him here alone."

"Then don't leave," he advised. "Get a good book and hover to your heart's content."

"I would, but I'm meant to meet Angela in half an hour."

The lunch with Angela had been down on the schedule for weeks and Geoff wouldn't dare suggest that she cancel it. His wife's oldest friend came to town too rarely for this opportunity to be missed and maybe Angela would cheer Sylvia up.

"Where are you?"

"Just leaving the surgery," he reported immediately. "I'll come straight home and…"

"'Scuse."

He drew up short, only half-listening to Sylvia's response as he nearly collided with a lanky man in a brown overcoat.

"Sorry," he blurted out. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"No worries," the man said with an easy grin. "Do you mind if I ask you a quick favor?"

"A quick one," Geoff insisted, gesturing to the phone. "The wife's in a right state and it's best if I don't keep her waiting."

The stranger nodded sympathetically. "Hell hath no fury, I've heard," he said. "Thing is, I'm running late to a dear friend's wedding with a short supply of cash. I'd take the tube, but that requires fare and my transportation's feeling a bit finicky..."

"Say no more," he said. "Sylvia, darling, I'll be there soon."

"Who are you talking to?" Sylvia demanded. "I told you not to engage every grifter you meet on the…"

She had lectured him on the odd fiver that he would hand off to homeless man. He had nearly missed Donna's wedding rehearsal because a foreign woman had needed directions to Covent Garden. Sylvia understood what the vicar said about loving your neighbor, but thought that it ought to be done on a timetable.

"How much do you need?" he asked. "Would ten do?"

"You're too kind," the man chuckled. "I just need a quid and I'll be on my way in no time."

Geoff chuckled at the simple request and reached into a pocket for the requested amount. Having located the coin, he passed it over with a brief firm handshake.

"Have it," he said. "Have that on me."

The man's grin broadened and he pocketed it. "You have my profound thanks."

"Give all my best wishes to the bride and groom," he responded. "Lord knows they'll need it."

He thought he saw something like pain flit across the man's face, but it disappeared a moment later. "I will," he promised before heading for the corner.

"I'm going to be late for lunch and you're prancing around London being Mother Teresa?" Sylvia protested as soon as he'd returned his attention to her. "How many other handouts will you be giving before you get home?"

"None," Geoff promised. "I'll just hop on the tube and be there in no time at all."

The problem arose a minute later when he swiped his Oyster card and it came up empty. With a good turn done and temporarily empty pockets, he trudged back to the street level and headed for home the long way around.

The only trouble was that the impromptu nature walk was cut short half a kilometer from home by an inattentive driver. Sylvia's anger at his tardiness turned to hysterical grief at the memory of her last conversation.

When her tears for the day were spent, however, she cursed the man who had so fatefully borrowed a quid on her husband's last walk home.