"Ah . . . Clara!"
"What's the matter?"
"Why are my shoes stuck to the floor?"
"We glued it."
"Why?"
"Don't ask why. It's better you don't know."
"Yes, but I like these shoes."
"Quit complaining."
The Doctor stood with his feet securely adhered to the metal floor of the space shuttle corridor. "What am I going to do?"
"Take off your shoes." Clara sighed and put a hand on her hip. Honestly, he was just like the children she taught.
"What? And walk around in my socks? That just won't do, Clara. You know my feet get cold."
"Well, it's either that or stand there until the rest of you gets cold as well. We're opening the doors now—the corridor's gonna be freezing."
The Doctor frowned at her, his massive eyebrows joining into one. "Clara . . ."
"Won't be a minute, Doctor." Clara whisked away to the control room.
"Clara!" he called again after her, then to himself, "Is it really too much to ask that they wait for me to come up with a solution that will actually work instead of trying to fix everything on their own?" He jerked his stockinged feet out of his shoes, careful not to step in the remaining mess of glue.
The Doctor padded into the control room where Clara was informing the three crew members on the best way to read Jane Austen's Persuasion. "Actually," she said, "Jane hesitated to even let anyone read it at first. . ."
"It won't work, Clara," said the Doctor. The crew looked around as he spoke. They had been practically drooling over her since she and the Doctor came aboard.
"What won't work?"
"Trying to civilize this motley crew." He jerked his head in their general direction. As if determined to prove the Doctor correct, they all stared blankly at him. "See? Muddled."
"We were enjoying it jus' fine, Clara," said one tall crewman. "Go ahead and tell us about June Austen."
"Jane Aust . . . oh never mind." Clara's amused expression fell on the Doctor. "Feet cold yet?"
"As if you would care." He shot her an injured look. "Right. Well, now that we know your plan is stupid, let's move on to my plan."
"Wot plan is that?" asked the captain.
"A plan to get me off this shuttle. How'd you pass the test to fly this thing anyway? Your bearing is all over the place."
"Doctor, do you really think you are qualified to make a remark like that?" asked Clara, clicking her teeth.
He ignored her. "Now, what we have to do is reset the mechanism thingy to the right coordinates so when the doors open we can actually . . . oh here, just let me do it."
The Doctor pushed past the captain to the console. He typed for a while before giving in and pulling out his sonic screwdriver to sonic the hell out of it, just for kicks. Stupid engineering, he thought. The Time Lords may have been terrible at avoiding war, but at least they could design machines that worked.
"Aha!" he cried. "There it is!" He turned to Clara for affirmation. "See? I told you to just let me do it."
Clara rolled her eyes. "Are you waitin' for a medal?"
"No," he glanced at the crew members lolling about. "Just an admission that I know what I'm doing."
Clara smiled. "Okay, then. Good job, Doctor!" she said brightly. Yes, exactly like the children she taught.
"Now let's get to the TARDIS before I drop a few hundred IQ points."
"Right you are," she said. "Lead the way."
The Doctor nodded and swaggered out of the room. Clara turned to shake hands with the vacant crew, all who stood scratching their heads or beards, unable to figure out what the Doctor had done and why he had done it.
"Claaaara!" the Doctor shouted from the corridor.
"Coming, Doctor!" she hurried her goodbyes.
"Claaara!"
"What?!"
"There's still GLUE on the floor!"