Clara wandered into the galley, yawning and tightening the belt on her silky red robe. She stopped short at the sight of the Doctor happily inhaling a bowl of something that she had to assume was a foodstuff…of some sort.
"What on earth is that?" Clara exclaimed, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
"Breakfast," the Doctor replied.
"No, really…what is that?"
"Fish fingers and-"
"Custard?"
"Best stuff in the universe. Want some?"
"No, thank you! Ever hear of nutrition?"
"Says the girl who's about to mix herself a chocolate soufflé for breakfast."
"Eggs, milk, you know…proper food." Clara looked up from the cupboard she was rummaging in. "Someone's used up all the eggs," she said accusingly.
"Making that," the Doctor replied, tapping a covered dish on the table.
Her face crinkled with suspicion, Clara reached out and lifted the cover, revealing a picture perfect chocolate soufflé. "You made that for me?"
The Doctor nodded, grinning.
"I think I'd kiss you, if you weren't eating that muck."