"I'd have to agree," he mused, fingertips trailing down the nape of the Doctor's neck. "I could carry you to our room, I suppose, but then I'd have to carry you over the threshold, and we're not dressed for that." He leaned forward, resting his chin on the edge of the table. "Much better to stagger arm in arm, singing bawdy songs off key. Do you think the house elves could do us a kebab?"