It wasn't difficult for them to find out where Mancini's Family Restaurant was. Aderyn had passed it several times. Though it was far more difficult for them to decide on the best route to get there that didn't involve sprinting across rooftops. Clara couldn't help but wander how much time Aderyn spent on the ground. She seemed to know Victorian London better by the roofs than the streets. Jenny eventually told Clara that she and Vastra never relied on Aderyn for directions as there was little to no chance of her telling them a route that involved being on the ground. And it was often more time consuming to try and figure out which buildings and streets Aderyn was referring to based on her descriptions of the rooftops.

But they got there eventually, Aderyn, Vastra and Jenny watching from a safe distance as Clara crossed the street and pushed open the door to the restaurant. She found an empty table set in an alcove and slid onto the curved bench. She fanned herself lazily with the newspaper she had taken with her and looked around the restaurant. Considering how many customers were there, the whole place was alarmingly quite. She dropped the paper and waited.

The smell was the first thing that reached her. She knew someone was there before she even saw them. She looked around and the Doctor was sat next to her. She picked up the paper again and tried to waft the smell away from her face. The coat the Doctor wore was large and dark and Clara highly suspected that coat was the source of the pungent smell.

"What's wrong?" The Doctor asked.

"I don't know." Clara said "Maybe the smell."

The Doctor raised his bushy eyebrows "I know, it's everywhere."

Clara fanned the paper quicker "Where did you get that coat?"

The Doctor chewed nervously on his thumb nail "I bought it."

Clara raised an eyebrow "Where?"

"A shop." The Doctor said quickly.

"No."

"Might have been a tramp."

Clara grimaced as the Doctor fidgeted and the movement caused the smell to intensify. "You don't have any money."

"I had a watch." The Doctor admitted.

"No. That watch was beautiful." Clara said, slapping the paper onto the table.

"It was my favourite." The Doctor agreed.

"You swapped your favourite watch for that coat. That was not a good deal." Clara said.

"Well, I was in a hurry. There was a terrible smell." The Doctor smiled.

"No." Clara snapped "No. Don't smile. I will smile first and then you know it's safe to smile."

The Doctor's face dropped "Are you cross with me?"

Clara forced a smile " I am not cross. But if I was cross it would be your fault." Her smile turned to a glare "And yes I am cross."

"I guessed that." The Doctor muttered.

"I am extremely cross."

The Doctor leant back in his seat "And if I hadn't changed my face, would you be cross?"

"I would be cross if I wasn't cross."

"Why?" The Doctor asked. Somehow he knew that trying to figure out why Clara was cross would some how be more challenging than trying to ascertain whatever was annoying Aderyn. And Aderyn appeared perpetually annoyed these days.

Clara let out an exasperated sigh "Why? An ordinary person wants to meet someone that they know very well for lunch. What do they do?"

"Well, they probably get in touch and suggest lunch."

"Okay, so what sort of person would put a cryptic note in, in a newspaper advert?"

The Doctor missed the rising anger in Clara's tone "Well I wouldn't like to say."

"Oh, please do." Clara spat.

The Doctor allowed himself a half smile "Well, I would say that person would be an egomaniac, needy, game-player sort of person."

"Thank you. Well at least that hasn't changed." Clara said with sarcastic cheer.

"And I don't suppose it ever will."

"I don't suppose it will either." Clara said pointedly.

The Doctor looked at her sternly "Clara, honestly, I don't want you to change. It was no bother, really. I saw your advert, I figured it out. I'm happy to play your game."

Clara stared at him, confused " No. No, no. I didn't place the ad. You placed the ad."

The Doctor shook his head "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you placed the ad, I figured it out. Impossible Girl, see? Lunch on the other side." Clara opened out the paper, showing the advert to the Doctor.

"You figured that out?" The Doctor smirked.

"Ok, no. Aderyn did." Clara sighed.

"But look. That is a message from the Impossible Girl."

"For the Impossible Girl." Clara argued. They both fell suddenly quiet, caught in an awful thought.

"If neither of us placed that ad, who placed that ad?" The Doctor asked quietly.

"Hang on, egomaniac, needy game player? That was me?" Clara slapped the Doctor's shoulder. She regretted it quickly as a cloud of dust and smell filled the air.

"Never mind that." The Doctor hissed.

"I am minding that. You were talking about me?"

"Clara, what is happening right now in this restaurant to you and me is more important than your egomania." The Doctor said.

"Nothing is more important than my egomania." Clara said quickly.

"Right, you just said that."

Clara pointed a threatening finger at the Doctor "And you never mention that again."

"It's a vanity trap." The Doctor explained, quickly moving the subject on "You're so busy congratulating yourself on solving the puzzle, you don't notice that you're sticking your head in a noose." He ran his fingers through his hair, plucking out the odd one and let it drift slowly to the floor.

"What are you doing? And that isn't the only grey one, if you are having a cull." Clara asked.

"Do you have a problem with the grey ones?"

Clara cocked an eyebrow at him "If I got new hair and it was grey, I would have a problem."

"I bet you would." The Doctor muttered, letting another hair fall. "Too short." In a swift movement, he reached across a pulled a single hair from Clara's head.

"Ow!"

"Sorry, it was the only one out of place. I'm sure that you would want it killed." He said.

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes "I'm trying to measure the air disturbance in the room." He held the long hair out and let it go. Even Clara could see how slowly it fell to the floor. That didn't seem right. "There is something extremely wrong with everybody else in this room."

"Basically, don't you always think that?"

"Look at them." The Doctor said. When Clara turned her head to take in the other customers, he hissed "Don't look. Look without looking."

"They look fine to me. They're just eating." Clara tutted.

"Are they?"

Clara looked at the nearest table. A woman was eating soup. But she wasn't really eating. The soup spoon was lowered to the bowl without reaching the soup. It was then raised without ever touching lips. And lowered again. Glasses and cutlery all around them was brought up and down without food or drink being consumed.

"No. They're not eating." Clara whispered.

"Another thing they're not doing," The Doctor said softly "Breathing."

Clara swallowed "How long before they notice that we're different?"

"Not long."

"What do we do?" Clara panicked.

"How long can you hold your breath?"

"We could just walk out of here, like we've changed our mind." Clara said.

"Happens all the time." The Doctor reasoned.

They stood. With a clatter of clockwork, the other diners stood. Clara and the Doctor stepped around the table. The other diners took a step towards them.

"Maybe we should have another look at the menu." Clara said. They sat again. So did the diners.

They both picked up the small menus that were on the table and a waiter walked over to them.

"Do you have a children's menu?" The Doctor asked. The waiter didn't say anything. Instead he shone a small green light on the Doctor "Any specials?"

"Liver. Spleen. Brain stem. Eyes." The waiter said.

"Is there much demand for that?" Clara asked.

"I don't think that's the menu. I think we are the menu." the Doctor said "Excuse me." He reached up and pulled the waiter's face. The face came away with surprising ease, revealing a metal mesh beneath. They could just see a flame behind it.

"Ok. Robot in a mask." Clara breathed.

"It's a face." The Doctor said. He leant across the table, covering Clara's face with the mask.

"Yes. Very convincing." Clara said, her voice muffled.

"No, I mean it's a face."

Disgusted, Clara took the face from the Doctor's hands and threw it to the floor.

"Yes." The waiter said.

The Doctor frowned "Yes what?"

"Yes, we have a children's menu." The robot waiter said.

Clara and the Doctor jumped when metal arms appeared from the bench and fastened around their arms and legs. The Doctor looked down at their bindings. Small metal hands clasped their restraints together and when he struggled, the Doctor found he was being held tightly. The bench began to descend.

"You've got to admire their efficiency." the Doctor said.

"Do you mind if I don't." Clara said as she wriggled against her bonds.

The bench stopped moving with a jerk like a halting lift. They had descended into a large circular room. There were alcoves set into the walls. Each alcove held a person. None of them moved. On a chair in the centre of the room was another figure, sat perfectly upright and unmoving.

"Hello? Hello, are you the manager? I demand to speak to the manager?" The Doctor said angrily. The figure on the chair didn't move or make a sound. In fact, the figure gave no signs that they were aware of the arrival of Clara and the Doctor at all.

Clara sighed "This isn't a real restaurant is it?"

The Doctor shook his head "Well now, it's more a sort of automated organ collection station for the unwary diner. Sweeney Todd without the pies."

"Where are we now?" Clara asked.

"Factually? An ancient spaceship, probably buried for centuries. Functionally? A larder." The Doctor shrugged.

"Why hasn't somebody come for us?" Clara asked, wanting her hands to be free so she could waft away the smell that was being produced as the Doctor began to fidget and wiggle.

"We're alive." the Doctor said casually.

"We're alive in a larder."

"Exactly." The Doctor stopped moving, suddenly keeping very still "It's cheaper than freezing us."

Clara looked at him. She could just see the tip of the sonic screwdriver protruding from an inside pocket of the coat.

"Are you ready?" The Doctor asked.

Clara tried to slouch as much as possible, trying to extend the reach of her legs. She nodded. "Go for it."

"Don't let it roll away. We've got one shot at this." The Doctor warned. Clara nodded and the Doctor shook the sonic screwdriver from his pocket. It clattered to the floor and rolled.

Clara reached out on foot towards it "I can just about reach it." she said.

The Doctor sighed "It's at times like this I miss Amy." He said quietly.

Clara had been able to kick the sonic screwdriver closer to her. She now held it between her feet "Who?" She snapped. The Doctor shook his head. "Ready?"

"Don't miss." The Doctor said. He wriggled his arms in the restraints, ready to catch the screwdriver. When Clara flicked it up to him, it landed in his lap. Judging by his suddenly pained expression, Clara guessed the sonic had landed somewhere slightly lower than she was aiming for.

"Sorry." She said guiltily. The Doctor was only just able to reach the sonic with his fingertips and moved it closer. When he closed his hand around it, he freed himself from the restraints, then quickly freed Clara.

As they both stepped away from the bench, Clara looked around at people in the alcoves.

"Doctor?"

"Dormant." The Doctor said without looking at them.

"How do you know?" Clara asked.

"I don't." The Doctor confessed "I'm just hoping." He tip toed towards the figure sat in the chair.

"So, is it these guys that killed the dinosaur?"

"Well, if they're harvesting organs, a dinosaur would have some great stuff."

"Why would robots need organs?" Clara chuckled "Burke and Hare from space?"

"No, but that's a good theory. Droids harvesting spare parts. That rings a bell." The Doctor stopped in front of the robot in the chair. "Captain, my Captain." he muttered.

"Can he see us?" Clara asked, cautiously walking towards the Doctor.

"Dormant."

"Hoping?"

The Doctor nodded. He looked closely at the chair the robot was sat on "Oh, look. He's recharging. He's asleep. Doesn't even know we're here."

"Okay. So, half-man, half-robot. A cyborg, yeah?" Clara walked around the chair and stood next to the Doctor. The robot in the chair was different to the rest. Only half of the face resembled a face. There was a metal mesh beneath it, much like that of the waiter. And one eye was completely exposed.

"Look at the hands." The Doctor said suddenly. Clara did what she was told. The hands were completely different to each other. One had was rugged and worn, the other looked as though it had never done a hard day's work in it's life. "See this, this is not your normal cyborg. This isn't a man turning himself into a robot. This is a robot turning himself into a man, piece by piece."

"That's what the restaurant is for?" Clara asked.

"Well, it would need a constant supply of spare parts. You can tan skin, but organs rot. Some of that metalwork looks Roman. Wonder how long it's been around, how much of the original is even left? The eyeballs look very fresh, though."

The robot's arms moved suddenly. They snapped up and rested on the arms of the chair, clinging to it.

Clara and the Doctor backed away slowly, heading for the only exit they could see. But just as they reached it, the Doctor stopped just short of the archway and looked around the room.

"I've seen this before. I'm missing something."

"Doctor!" Clara hissed.

The Doctor didn't move. Clara ran back through the archway and grabbed the Doctor. She pushed him through it.

Behind them, the half faced robot lifted its hands and pressed a small button concealed in it's palm. The door of the archway dropped suddenly, with Clara still in the room. The Doctor tried to sonic the door open again, but it didn't lift far enough for even Clara to slip through. The half faced man began to unplug himself from the chair.

"Sorry, too slow. There's no point in them catching us both." The Doctor said sadly.

"Then give me the screwdriver." Clara said.

"I might need it." The Doctor let the door close fully, turned on his heel, and ran down the corridor.