"How do you do it again?"
The old man's harsh Scottish accent crept up on Clara, making her drop her book and look up at him, with a loud gasp.
The Doctor was on the other side of the console, trying to twirl around, both of his arms outstretched, with his head tilted way too far to the left.
Clara bit down on her lip, to stop herself from laughing, but wasn't strong enough to stop a small little squeak of laughter escape.
Her eyes were fixed on the Doctor's failed waddles, as he tried to find his steps to form at least one iota of a dance pattern. Clara reclaimed her book from the floor, and rested her arms on her knees, watching the 2,000 year old pensioner.
"Oh. My God, look at you, taking your first baby steps." Clara said sarcastically.
The Doctor dropped his arms down.
"Oh, haaaa haaaa." The Doctor droned. "Now shut up and help me."
"What are you doing?" Clara asked, bemused at his feet clamping down on the hard floor, sending echoes down hall ways, 50 miles from the console room.
"Learning to dance."
"I'm sorry?"
"Learning to dance, what are you deaf as well as stubborn?" He asked.
Clara rolled her eyes. She didn't want to rise to it, because she knew she would win.
"So, let me get this straight." She said pulling herself from the chair. "You're a 2,000 year old alien, from an ancient planet, who saves lives and stops danger, and has been around for….GOD knows how long, but the old man…doesn't know how to dance?"
The Doctor could sense the sarcastic, but strangely organic, shock in her voice, and grounded his feet to a halt. He swallowed his lips, and looked away from her huge eyes.
"…Maybe."
"Bloody hell, now I really have seen everything." She chuckled, placing the book down on the console.
"Well, I've been around a bit, haven't I? I've got a brain the size of NASA but bigger and with a few more space ships and clutter, that a guy like me would call offensive."
Weird comparison, but Clara took it.
"May I ask why?"
"Because, I'm curious. I want to become a dancer."
Clara raised an eyebrow.
Rolling his eyes, the Doctor sighed.
"Well no, BUT! I'd like to become an artist but I'm too gregarious."
"If gregarious is the word for it."
"What do you mean by that?"
Clara laughed, settling back down into the chair. "Nothing" She said.
The Doctor dragged his hard stare at her. With his eyebrows lower down his face than they had ever been before, he turned to the console.
A little bit of this over here. A little bit of that over there and the TARDIS engines roared into action, sending Clara flying off her chair, screaming.
"Clara! Go down to the wardrobe; pick your best old fashioned outfit!" He said, picking her up off the floor.
"Why?" Clara asked, breathlessly.
"It's a surprise."