The Doctor prances about the TARDIS, listening to some random music coming from a source Clara is unaware of. She hangs back in the shadows, giggling at how goofy he looks, with his hunched shoulders and clumsy movements. She guesses he's trying to dance, but she can't be quite sure.
"Ah, Clara!" he calls, spotting her when another wave of giggles forces her body out of the darkness a little. "Just the girl I was looking for!" His brow creases in an attempt to fathom why she is still laughing, but then he realises. "Oi… You… You saw me dancing!"
"Dancing?" she laughs. "I thought your muscles were spasming!"
He frowns a little, evaluating his dancing skills and coming up with the conclusion that they weren't too professional after all.
"Okay then, show me how it's done!" he challenges, regretting his words when he realises that Clara was probably one of those human girls that spent their childhood decked out in pink and holding mummy's hand at ballet class.
"Only if you turn off that racket."
He rolls his eyes and slopes off to the control panel, flicking some switch that causes the strange moanings of some obscure alien band to be quietened.
"So Doctor, do you have any decent music?" Clara asks, trying to replicate what he just did to control the music being played.
"Don't you touch her!" The Doctor interrupts, grabbing her hands and stopping her from pressing any old random button. "And, regarding your question. I suppose it depends what you mean by decent."
"Not alien," she begins. "80s rock will do me fine, I mean, I did used to love a good jamming session to my dad's old music, I reckon I'd be good at that."
"Nope, none of that." He runs a hand through his hair but stops when he sees Clara take to the improvised 'dance floor'. Her hands are in a weird position, and she's jumping up and down enthusiastically whilst her fingers strum on simply, well, mid air.
"What, on earth, is that," he breathes, confused to say the least. Clara however, is too preoccupied to notice or hear his confused mumblings, but she looks up briefly from her dance without music to see the puzzled look on his face.
"It's called an air guitar," she grins, really getting into it. "If you think I'm good, wait till you see my dad."
"I think not-"
"You know you want to," Clara says deviously, bounding over to him and positioning his hands so it looks like he's clutching on something that isn't really there. "Now, move your fingers around a bit, like you're plucking an elastic band."
The Doctor obeys, and finds the sight of him doing such a thing rather amusing. Clara starts humming ferociously, and it's quite a tuneless affair, but she doesn't care because she has taught an alien how to play an air guitar.
And at least it's something to cross off her bucket list.