It was quite interesting how the interior of the machine had come to arrange itself in since the previous Christmas Day. Of course, the "round things" had not made a return and the probability of them returning was theoretically impossible, as the TARDIS is constantly trapped in a cycle of internal change, as determined by the succession of Doctors and how each of them possessed a seemingly different central room, though it was never explained how or why the walls and console changed. After countless hours spent over countless companions, it was never figured out, and the issue was laid to rest. At this particular, moment however, the decor of the room was the least of the two passengers' concerns.
"Doctor," Clara screamed, falling to the ground as the TARDIS suddenly shook with the magnitude of a severe earthquake, "Is this supposed to be happening?!" Bright white light, flashing at random intervals, provided moments of temporary blindness as traditional Christmas songs blared at the decibel of the engine of a Boeing 747. Among the lyrics of Silent Night came ominous beeps and the occasional grunt from Clara and her double-hearted companion. Aren't I the companion? She thought to herself before being violently thrown to the floor again.
The Doctor, fighting to keep himself at the center console, either did not hear the question or chose to ignore it, as he continued to press buttons and pull levers that appeared to have no effect on the current state of things. His short gray hair still stood perfectly on his head, and his black jacket was slowly becoming looser as the force of the shaking caused it to become unbuttoned. The initial target destination of which the two were headed was supposed to be 18th century Germany for a traditional Christmas party in Dusseldorf, but, by the state of things, it appeared as though they were hurtling through time and space at an alarming rate.
"Looks like we are going to have to take a slightly different route…" The man said, his thick Scottish accent making every word seem slightly sarcastic. To Clara and to everybody who talked to him, he seemed Scottish, but she knew that he only had the accent because of the TARDIS and its ability to do wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey speech translation. Still, though, that would explain how to her he spoke English, but never really explained the accent.
After one final jerk that made Ms. Oswald want to eject all of her lunch out of her mouth, she deemed it fitting that she should stop contemplating the realities of the TARDIS and focus more on not spewing her tuna salad out on the journey along with the universe's worst riptide. Luckily, that jerk was the last, as the entire machine shuddered to a stop. There was no crash, no explosion, no real noise at all; just a shudder and then a stop. Along with the fact that loud noises were absent, all of the lights stopped, as did the extremely loud Christmas music. Both the Doctor and Clara remained still, as if any movement at all would set off a ticking time bomb.