“Blimey, you’re a lightweight…” muttered the Doctor, bracing a hand on the console as he dropped to his knees.
“Oi, zip it!” Zepheera called up irritably through the grate of the floor she’d fallen through moments ago. It was one of those rare special occasions that inspired the Doctor to unearth perfectly aged alien wines for his companion and himself to enjoy. Zepheera simply lacked the uncanny Time Lord ability to control just how drunk she got. “I am four and a half inches tall and haven’t touched the stuff in nearly thirty years, I’m the definition of lightweight!”
The Doctor grumbled as he reached down for the handle that would lift up the panel, uncovering his tiny companion sitting on a trunk and staring up at him with her arms crossed.
“Well. Now you know where the floor is. And that it has holes in it.”
“I hate you,” murmured Zepheera, offering no further protest as the Doctor reached down to retrieve his friend.