Brem, in a disaster-preparation mood, went rummaging through the Christmas decorations stored in the TARDIS’s equivalent of an attic and mounted the mistletoe over his door. Fortuna, still so young that she slept in a cot, still so new to TARDIS life that she followed her older brother everywhere in adoration, watched him.
“It’s mistletoe,” she pointed out.
“It deters werewolves,” replied Brem.
“It’s mistletoe,” she said again, stubbornly.
Brem looked down at her, where she sat with a bottle in one hand and her cherished frog finger puppet in the other, and decided to let her kiss his cheek.