Safely in the TARDIS, the Doctor collapsed onto the floor. Clara watched the regeneration in fascinated horror, her eyes half-covered by her fingers.
With a groan, the new doctor emerged. "Help me up, Clara." He cleared his throat. "That's better — no."
Clara took a cautious step forward. He sat up and cleared his throat again, coughed and frowned.
"Hurry up, now."
She did.
"What is wrong with my voice?" He clapped his hands to his ears. "Or has my hearing gone?"
"You're just — Scottish."
"No!" His fingers flew through his hair in a panicked frenzy. "Tell me I'm not ginger!"
