"AH Amsterdam! The city of canals! Look at it. Isn’t it marvelous?" the Doctor asked. "So much water. Roads, made of water! What a purely human idea."
"Yes…" Poe said. "Marvelous…say what is that aroma?" Poe asked as they walked past a cafe.
"Oh. Uhm. Never you mind that, local flavor, a bit of a…well you don’t want to get into that." The Doctor replied hastily.
"Hmmm." Poe said.
"Here we are! Amsterdam! Home of canals, houseboats, and various illicit activities you humans seem to be so fond of…" the Doctor trailed off, pondering.
"It’s quite lovely." Poe muttered, observing the gray weather and overall cloudy outlook of the sky.
"Isn’t it? Now come! They have a wonderful museum of Van Gogh paintings here," the Doctor said, "yet another misunderstood genius and wonderful friend of mine. You two have a lot in common!"
"How so?" Poe asked.
"Well. You, er, create! You create wonderful things. Let’s go."
And off they went.
Having finally reached Versailles, the Doctor excitedly ran about, recalling memories and littering Poe’s brain with stories.
"This is where I leapt through a mirror on a horse. A horse! From a spaceship! Oh good times," the Doctor muttered.
Poe was dazzled, never had he seen such opulence in his life, these people lived such an obnoxiously lavish life.
"And here is where I watched them take her away," the Doctor said.
"And who was that?" Poe asked.
"An old, old friend." The Doctor was silent for a moment. "Come on old chap, let’s head somewhere else for a change, how does Amsterdam sound? Lovely town, great Indian food."
"Now I hear there is a fabulous shop for macaroons in Versailles," the Doctor said. "How’s about a quick trip?"
The two turned down the street toward the TARDIS, only to discover that “Sexy” was gone.
"Well where is she?" Poe asked.
"Oh no no…the HADS must have gone off! Someone must have tried to mess with her. Now where did she go…" the Doctor pulled out his sonic and began his scan. "AH! Versailles! Now there’s a coincidence. How do we get there?"
"The Metro, I assume." Poe said.
"This is a dreadfully slow way to travel, how do you stand it!"
"It’s just as new to me as it is to you," Poe said sagely.
The Doctor looked at him and smiled, briefly, before returning to an insatiable boredom waiting for the train.
Traveling through Paris, Poe paused in front of Notre Dame. The majestic gothic beauty loomed over him. Dark and disturbing images twisted through his mind, stories, wonderful stories.
"I went to an absolutely stupendous party up in the bellower up there, turns out Quasimodo was a Sontaran….good personality for a potato-man who society hated. But the pastries that potato could make!" The Doctor had caught up with Poe.
Poe turned and stared.
"Thought the gargoyles were Weeping Angels," the Doctor mused, staring up. "Turns out they weren’t! What a spot of luck, eh?" He chuckled to himself.
Sontarans? Weeping Angels? This was truly too much for Poe. He stormed off, away from this madness.
Leading away from the Moulin Rouge, and up the hill of Montmartre, the Doctor elaborated on this infamous district of arts and life, barely remembering to slow down to let Poe catch up.
"AND THIS!" the Doctor shouted over the crowds, "is where I had my portrait drawn with Toulouse Lautrec! Lovely fellow, bit on the short side."
They arrived in front of Sacre Cour, the beauty of which nocked Poe speechless. The Doctor, however, rambled on and on, and on.