Sonic screwdrivers had changed a lot since Harry was a lad. When he was given his first, it was a slim, silver affair that looked to have been the love child of a propelling pencil, a pocket torch and a Polaris rocket. Now they looked more like the vibrators his mum left out deliberately when he went round for tea on alternate Sundays. Time lords were just getting flashier and flashier and he didn't even want to talk about tardises.
Harry hitched up the legs of his trousers and squatted. "Where did you get that then?" he asked. "They're not even due out until September, ready for the Christmas rush. Was it a post-production gift?"
"A what?" The boy, seeing an adults interest in something he own and equating it with the knowledge he had of his father, sank his hand into his anorak pocket, burying the sonic screwdriver safely out of sight.
"Post-production," said Harry. "Did you get it on a studio tour?"
"Nah. My auntie Jennie give it me." The lad handled grammar like a professional footballer with the ref watching. "She was second assistant cameraman on the set and swiped it after filming."
"You mean it's real." Harry tone shifted to reverential. "Can I see it?"
"It's only a prop," said the boy, drawing it from his pocket but keeping a tight hold. he switched it on, revealing the series 29 green light beam. "Only real time lords have real ones."