The Doctor lay on a thin mattress in the corner of the Slitheen cell.  As digs went, he'd known better.  The room was more like a large cave burrowed out of the bare rock.  The walls were plastered with pictures of Raxacoricofallapatorians, some butt-naked like Dram and Ecktosca Fel Fotch, others peeking out cheekily from half-shucked body suits, impersonating all kinds of creatures from Meeps to Kraals.  The ceiling might have been thick with pictures too, but it was lost to blackness and shadows.  If you squinted you could just make out the glimmer of globs perched somewhere up among the rafters.

Instead of beds, both Dram Fel Fotch and Ecktosca sprawled in elaborate sticky nests.  The floor was tacky, as if fizzy pop had been spilled all over it - the Doctor had almost lost both shoes crossing to his temporary bed.  A smell of rotting rubbish filled the room.

'Cosy round here,' said the Doctor.  'You've done so much with the place.  Like it.'

'I still say having him here is a cheek,' mumbled Dram Fel Fotch.  'If it wasn't for the globs...'

'I don't snore or anything.  You won't even notice I'm here.'  The Doctor blew out a long, bored breath.  'So is it all right round here?  Food OK?  A good library?'

'Solar workshop's good,' said Dram.  'Very well equipped.'

'Can you make stuff there?  Or are there rules?'

'There are rules,' snapped Ecktosca.  'But one learns to get used to it.'

'Does "one"?' muttered the Doctor.

A moment later a voice in his head announced, 'Lights out!' and made him jump.  The room was soon plunged into blackness.  He listened to the Slitheen grunting and stretching and settling down for sleep.  Then the sound of wet snuffling.

'He smells like a cool little customer, this one, doesn't he, Dram?' said Ecktosca.

'Exotic,' Dram agreed.

'He looks as ugly as a human but his scent is rare and subtle.  Brash and distracted and ever so slightly sad...'

'A tough little morsel, too.'

'You would make a glorious hunt, Doctor,' said Ecktosca.  'I shall dream of hunting you down and tearing you into chunks.  No offence.'

'None taken.  So long as you don't sleepwalk.'  No reply.  He glanced up at the glimmering globs.  Don't go anywhere.

A minute passed.  The Doctor soon grew bored listening to the rush and whoop of Slitheen breathing as they settled down for sleep.

'So,' he said loudly, 'are you lot still running the family business?  Impersonating aliens, nuking their planets and selling off the radioactive chunks as cheap fuel for every bargain-bucket spaceship in the galaxy?'