Excuse you, Clara Oswald, our room is, in fact, extremely organized. It's organized so I know exactly where every bit of everything is; it's all in its place, you see, like pieces of a very colourful, very organized puzzle.
[ No comment on the 'clean', however. ]
Well, come along, then. [ He scoots over to her non-injured side and crooks his elbow for her to take. ] Shall I fetch you some soup? Waffles? I was trying this new recipe the other day, I think it might be my best batch yet.
[She's choosing to not make a comment about their room. Because it's not worth potentially barbing him over something that he doesn't really see as a problem. It's not his fault she's a perfectionist.
What she does do, however, is wrinkle up her nose as she takes hold of his elbow and lets him lead the way.]
As long as that recipe isn't for waffles stuffed with soup.
[But she laughs as soon as the words leave her mouth, because not even he would dare make such a monstrosity. ]
You can cut up and feed me waffles in bed. How does that sound, Doctor?
[Even if he hates the idea, she knows he'll do it. Because she's asked him to, and he'll do anything to put a smile on her face. ]
[ He pats her (good) hand, sweeping them past the infirmary doors and back out into the main station corridor once more. ]
Been there, done that — well, not exactly, it was more like a particularly flimsy bread bowl at the Palais Royal. The sous-chef and I had this brilliant idea to have a sort of soup sandwich, only it really couldn't be done. Made a right mess of the kitchen floors ... they were scrubbing carrots and cream out for hours!
[ The palace's head chef wasn't well pleased with their experiments either. ]
What about a bowl of soup with bits of waffle in?
[ Yes, she knows him well. Even if it wasn't something he'd particularly enjoy doing, he'd do it for Clara. Because she's Clara. ]
Oh, yes, yes. Syrup's definitely the superior of the condiments, so syrup aplenty you shall have.
[ This is said with a performative little gesture, and honestly, a fair amount of approval after his less-than-successful go of sharing his culinary snackfoods with others on the station.
(Looking at you, Hermann.) ]
Right. Oh — oh! That was the same night we spilled red wine all over the curtains, nearly got ourselves sent to the guillotine. Lucky for us, lucky for me, the king turned out to be a Zygon on the run!
Let me guess. [Clara interjects with a smirk.] You married him and helped him escape so he could stay on the run?
[Her tone is dry, clearly amused. But there's an edge of concern that this is something she knows very well the Doctor would do. So she feels a pressing need to gloss that jest over with more dry, blunt facts.]
I was caught by a Zygon once. Bonnie. She tried parading around as me, wearing a shade of lipstick I still haven't forgiven her for.
[ The Doctor can't help it when he does a double-take, stopping short, and wondering with genuine confusion just when that could have happened. Because he's got no recollection of it, and he remembers everything, and —
And then, yes. He has to remind himself, firmly remind himself, that this must be one of those timey-wimey things he isn't actually privy to, which is never a feeling he's ever been fond of. He likes to be the clever one, the one always on top of everything, always two steps (at least) ahead of everyone else. He's got it bad enough with River out of sync with him, but now there's this.
He's quiet for a moment, and then he nods and resumes walking, the features on his face brightening. ]
No, no, of course not. [ He makes a more exaggerated face of disgust. ] Zygons have the suckers, and I'd really rather not be caught snogging those.
[There's a lot she could say about Zygon suckers. There's a lot she'd rather not think about and say about them, too. Instead of picturing him snogging a Zygon she bursts out laughing, giving his arm a squeeze.
They walk the rest of the way to their room linked arm in arm, laughing and trading quips about snogging Zygons in hushed whispers. And for once since coming here, things finally feel like the way they used to.]
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no subject
Eh-hem. ]
Excuse you, Clara Oswald, our room is, in fact, extremely organized. It's organized so I know exactly where every bit of everything is; it's all in its place, you see, like pieces of a very colourful, very organized puzzle.
[ No comment on the 'clean', however. ]
Well, come along, then. [ He scoots over to her non-injured side and crooks his elbow for her to take. ] Shall I fetch you some soup? Waffles? I was trying this new recipe the other day, I think it might be my best batch yet.
no subject
What she does do, however, is wrinkle up her nose as she takes hold of his elbow and lets him lead the way.]
As long as that recipe isn't for waffles stuffed with soup.
[But she laughs as soon as the words leave her mouth, because not even he would dare make such a monstrosity. ]
You can cut up and feed me waffles in bed. How does that sound, Doctor?
[Even if he hates the idea, she knows he'll do it. Because she's asked him to, and he'll do anything to put a smile on her face. ]
no subject
[ He pats her (good) hand, sweeping them past the infirmary doors and back out into the main station corridor once more. ]
Been there, done that — well, not exactly, it was more like a particularly flimsy bread bowl at the Palais Royal. The sous-chef and I had this brilliant idea to have a sort of soup sandwich, only it really couldn't be done. Made a right mess of the kitchen floors ... they were scrubbing carrots and cream out for hours!
[ The palace's head chef wasn't well pleased with their experiments either. ]
What about a bowl of soup with bits of waffle in?
[ Yes, she knows him well. Even if it wasn't something he'd particularly enjoy doing, he'd do it for Clara. Because she's Clara. ]
no subject
Just regular, syrupy waffles'll do. Bless you for trying, though.
[Clara's an adventurous eater, but even she has her limits when it comes to weird creations.]
Let's get me settled, and you can tell me all about your soup sandwich adventure at the Palais Royal.
[She couldn't think of a better way to spend the rest of her day, honestly.]
no subject
[ This is said with a performative little gesture, and honestly, a fair amount of approval after his less-than-successful go of sharing his culinary snackfoods with others on the station.
(Looking at you, Hermann.) ]
Right. Oh — oh! That was the same night we spilled red wine all over the curtains, nearly got ourselves sent to the guillotine. Lucky for us, lucky for me, the king turned out to be a Zygon on the run!
no subject
[Her tone is dry, clearly amused. But there's an edge of concern that this is something she knows very well the Doctor would do. So she feels a pressing need to gloss that jest over with more dry, blunt facts.]
I was caught by a Zygon once. Bonnie. She tried parading around as me, wearing a shade of lipstick I still haven't forgiven her for.
[that sure was one crazy day]
no subject
And then, yes. He has to remind himself, firmly remind himself, that this must be one of those timey-wimey things he isn't actually privy to, which is never a feeling he's ever been fond of. He likes to be the clever one, the one always on top of everything, always two steps (at least) ahead of everyone else. He's got it bad enough with River out of sync with him, but now there's this.
He's quiet for a moment, and then he nods and resumes walking, the features on his face brightening. ]
No, no, of course not. [ He makes a more exaggerated face of disgust. ] Zygons have the suckers, and I'd really rather not be caught snogging those.
no subject
They walk the rest of the way to their room linked arm in arm, laughing and trading quips about snogging Zygons in hushed whispers. And for once since coming here, things finally feel like the way they used to.]