"I picked you up, even when you were covered in slime after he spat you out! You were technically vomit, and you were still the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on!" -- Anon Guest
"It's a good thing you told me about the uvula," she allowed, "but... a thing? Really?"
"Only by base technicality, dear," cooed Blasingstoke. "You are a machine."
Miss Cliq sighed at him. "Fine. You get away with it for now. No more objectifying cogniscents."
"Yes dear," smiled Blasingstoke. "She's been instrumental in all my advancements. And I've done my best to keep her in good repair."
The Doctor winced a little. "Yes. Yes. You're very much in love. But she's a hyper-advanced service droid from an alien cruise liner, and you're... a British explorer from the Victorian Empire. Something's going to go drastically wrong..."
They instantly reached for each other, protecting their love from the bad man.
"We understand our differences," said Miss Cliq. "I have been striving to keep my footprint in this primitive world to a minimum."
"Even in London," smiled Blasingstoke. "And they have Lady Vastra."
The Doctor winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't mention them, right now, I already have enough headaches... Starting with the remains of your ship, Miss Cliq."
"That is what I mean to destroy," she said. "After I have stripped it for all the useful materials necessary to keep me running."
"I'm helping," said Blasingstoke. "Miss Cliq has already said she'll stop operating without repairs, and... when I'm gone... she won't last much longer."
"Fifty years," said Miss Cliq. "Sixty if I can wean him off cigars. That's... enough of a life of freedom... isn't it?"
"Yes, but in those fifty-to-sixty years, he's busy inventing. He's cribbing notes off your maintenance and turning them into devices that are decades... centuries ahead of their time. Do you two have any idea how hard it was to stop Babbage and Lovelace? This is ten times worse!"
Blasingstoke put himself between the Doctor and Miss Cliq. "If you're going to end her, sir... you'll have to take me first."
Miss Cliq put her shields around him. "I'd rather run my batteries flat than see you die..."
It was enough to make the Doctor nearly swear. "Oh stop it. There's really no need for all that melodrama. I'm here to help. Not just this planet, but also you. There's enough bits and pieces here for you to build a two-person craft and head off to about five different planets where you could both live in peace. Way beyond the grip of your corporation, Miss Cliq."
The shields dropped. Blasingstoke's fists dropped. "You give your word as a gentleman, sir?"
"Trust me, the places I have in mind would be the next best thing to eden. Very suitable for you... and lots of minerals and materials for you, too, Miss Cliq."
"I detect no falsehood... May I see the list?"
He had it ready on a loose piece of paper.
"These are death worlds comparable to this one... with biota that would not harm or be harmed by my Blasingstoke."
The man blushed at that. Vivid red, all over his face. "Oh dearest..."
"Can you keep your emotions under check?" said the Doctor. "There is a time window. Chop, chop."
Later explorers would find no trace of Blasingstoke and his intriguing fiancee. There were the remains of a base camp, but no material evidence that they had passed on. It was as if they had packed up everything and moved on... to another dimension.
What the conspiracy theorists never knew was that some of them were right. Blasingstoke was actually taken away by aliens.