how long are you going to stay with me?

Rose tightened her hand around a small, black device and let out a tremendous sigh. The rift had been more or less inactive in the last few weeks, and today, while she was sleeping, apparently it decided to let out a teeny, tiny blip. A small, insignificant, pointless thing that apparently warranted a one-man investigation. Apparently, she was that man. She took another left turn as she wandered, the clicking coming from the device picking up ever-so-slightly in her hand. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing but radiation, or maybe it'd burped up a parallel universe's soda can.

She groaned when she hit a dead end, and took a moment to flop herself down on a crate. She was tired. All there was in this stupid alleyway was a crate, two dumpsters, and a statue someone decided to chuck out. She couldn't blame them, really. The thing looked... creepy, peering out from behind it's hands with blank stone eyes. Looking at it, actually, was starting to put her on edge. With a frown, she stood up, and started to back out of the alley.

Stop being stupid, Rose. It's just a statue. With a final glance, she turned her back on the stone angel, and made to move out of the alley.

At this point, she was nearly run over by a carriage.

"Oi! Watch it!" She snapped, annoyed.

She was nearly run over by a carriage.

A carriage.

A carriage.

"Wait... what?"

-

After about three hours of pinching herself and wandering around the city, Rose was convinced she was neither dreaming, nor drunk. This was not the England she'd left. This was...

This was the bloody 18th Century. She sat down in a local pub and began to take inventory. She had six quid (useless), a Torchwood-issue walkie-talkie (pointless), a mag-light, a taser, and a dead mobile phone. It was nearly noon, and she had no money to rent a room in the inn. With a little help from the nice (and ogling) barman, she found her way across town where some Italian bloke was, apparently, looking for a tenant.