Sometimes they fight, sometimes he storms off and doesn't come for her the next week.
"Clara, just leave it."
"Who's Martha Jones?"
"Clara!" His voice took on a warning tone.
"Stop treating me like a child and just answer me!" She shot back, not backing down.
"Clara, leave it alone." Gritted teeth. Not good. She held her ground.
"Just answer me! What's so special about this woman? Why can't you just-"
"Clara!" He yelled at her, turning around, looking down at her. His eyes bore through her soul, shining menacingly. "Know your boundaries!" He stared into her frightful eyes. Somewhere inside him, remorse stirred. He barely registered that he was the cause of her fright. Clara's eyes glistened with tears. She felt like a little child, cornered by an angry parent. She was afraid. She backed off, quickly twisting on her heels and shooting off toward anywhere. Everywhere was better than right here.
But even after fights, they'd always come back again.
They never stayed angry at each other for long.
And he was sorry.