Chapter 2 - A Chicken
"Why does Casanova look like you?" The Doctor opened his mouth and then closed it again, not quite sure what to say. "Or do you look like him?" He glanced up at her and then quickly looked away. "I'm right, aren't I?"
"Clara..." he screwed up his face, hunting for the words, "regeneration isn't completely random—"
"So you chose to look like him?"
"Well, not chose so much as... It's a lot more subconscious than that."
"Wait, are all of your faces based off of other people?"
"Not my first one, no. But the others," he shrugged, "who knows. My ninth self bares a striking resemblance to a rather sad and unpleasant man I met once in Yorkshire."
"So that accent was from the north?"
"Yes I suppose so, now can we—"
"When were you last here in Venice?" Clara knew the Doctor was anxious to leave, but she wasn't going anywhere until she understood what was happening. If they left for the TARDIS now he'd whisk her off on some adventure and she'd never get an explanation out of him.
"I came here with some friends rather recently. Well, when I say recently it was a few hundred years back, but it was this face. We fought vampire fish!" he said with the goofy grin of a ten year old.
Clara tried to call him back to the question, "Doctor?"
"'Course that was long before Casanova was born. No, the last time I was in Venice with Casanova it was my fourth self. You know the one with the broad rimmed hat and the—"
"Ridiculous scarf?" Both Clara and the Doctor looked up to see Casanova smiling at them devilishly from the entrance to the courtyard. "Is that really you, Doctor? When you said you could change your face I thought you were just a bit pissed. Blimey. You're younger. Good looking, if a bit strange. Still no fashion sense, but that was too much to hope for." Casanova turned his gaze towards Clara, an altogether different grin appearing on his face, "glad to see you remembered to bring me a chicken."
"A what?" Clara asked, indignantly. She stood up and the Doctor quickly followed suit. She took a few steps towards Casanova, completely invading his personal space. The Doctor thought this was going rather well, actually. Clara would put Casanova in his place, and the two of them would be off on a proper adventure in no time. But, of course, that's not what happened. At the last moment Clara whirled around and came after him, "A 'chicken', you said you owed him a 'chicken'."
"Bit of Venetian slang. Like chick or bird," the Doctor was backing up, to no avail, Clara was keeping pace.
"So what you really meant to say was a 'woman'. You bet a woman," the look she was giving him was pure ice and it, in no uncertain terms, demanded an explanation.
Casanova took pity on him, "I can explain, if you like."
"Thanks, but I think this one really has to come from the Doctor," who, in his awkwardness, had backed himself up against the low wall, and Clara had effectively trapped him there. He was use to her assertiveness, what he wasn't used to, what he hoped he never saw again, was the look of complete disapproval in her eyes. It was perhaps one of only a few things in the universe that could rendered him speechless.
"He's not selling you into slavery or anything," Casanova said, with a laugh.
Clara maintained her position blocking the Doctor, but turned around to face Casanova, "It's the 1740s, I don't think we should really be joking about slavery."
"You're friend's only crime is nativity. And a complete lack of fashion." Clara took a few steps away from the Doctor and motioned for Casanova to continue. "The last time the Doctor was here he not only had a different face, he also had a different lady with him."
"Romana," the Doctor managed to add, now that Clara was facing Casanova and had given him a little room.
"Lovely Romana. She took quite a shine to me."
"She couldn't stand you. She spent most of her time belittling him."
"That was just harmless flirting."
"Doctor, are you telling me you made a bet about whether or not Romana would... get it on with him—"
"'Get it on', I like that."
"—and you bet against Casanova?"
The Doctor shrugged, "She's not even human, I never thought..."
Clara rolled her eyes. Naive was right. "Wait, but how did this even become a bet?"
"Well, I was sure that I would succeed in my efforts, the Doctor was certain I would fail. And we each had something we desired. I desired Romana—"
"Yeah, but if she's the bet you can't exactly win her as your price."
"Quite right, but I could request another chicken. The way the Doctor told it he was always traveling with beauties, so the deal was if I won he'd bring another lady here and I could try again. A sort of double or nothing."
Clara shot the Doctor another disapproving look before turning back to Casanova, "So, does that mean the bet would continue?"
"Exactly. I'd have a day, or so to charm the skirt off her, well, I guess in this case, you, and if I do—"
"He brings you another chicken. I get it." Clara turned back around to speak to the Doctor. He was glad to see her expression had thawed a bit, "But what's in it for you, Doctor? What could you possibly desire enough that you would make that bet?"
"A... tricorne."
"A what?"
"A hat. The most hideous hat that ever existed."
"No it's not!"
"Kind of is. I was wearing it when I first met the Doctor and only because it was a gift from a benefactor, and you really shouldn't bite the hand that feeds you (it was her neck she liked bit, actually. And her thighs)," he added the last part with a wink. Clara stared at him indifferently (the Doctor blushed profusely). "Anyway, it's purple velvet, with silver lace and great big feathers. Horrible, you see? But your Doctor, he was as enamored with that hat as I was with Romana."
"Yes well, a good deal has happen since then. I've matured," he said it with enough unnecessary emphasis to completely belie his point, "and I don't plan to make the same mistake again." He began walking in the direction of the TARDIS, "Come along, Clara. Present day Venice awaits." The Doctor took a few steps, but quickly realize that Clara wasn't following him. He whirled around in confusion.
"Couldn't we just stay?"
"Hear that Doctor, I think she likes me."
The Doctor wasn't sure whether he should be glaring at Casanova or looking dumbfounded at Clara.
"Hardly. But think about it, we're already here, we've missed the tourist by a few centuries, lover boy here can act as our tour guide and should keep us out of non-humany trouble, and by the end of the day you'll have a new ridiculous hat that River will probably burn the next time she sees you."
The Doctor still looked uneasy, "But he'll be..." he seemed to mine talking and winking, before it devolved into air kisses... with tongue.
"Flirting? I think I can handle it."
"Oh are we handling things already?" The Doctor shot him a glare. "You move rather fast, Miss... what was it?"
"Oswald. And just to be clear, the only thing you'll be handling tonight is yourself."
The Doctor went crimson, but Casanova only grinned. "Clara Oswald, what a day we're going to have."
A/N It's Casanova, it couldn't just be a 'chicken'. And don't worry, the Doctor has more to explain about why Ten looks like Casanova. Thanks for reading.