It's snowing right now! And I'm also incredibly tired. (I just got back home from a track meet - let me just tell you that waking up at six in the morning on a Sunday was not exactly something that I wanted to do, but I got up and stayed at the track meet. I ran a 1K race and went to do a high-jumping event. Both went pretty terribly for me, but you know, whatever, right? The important thing is that I tried and finished both events completely.)

But now that I'm home, I'm extremely tired. (I took a nap. And also watched Netflix.) However, I managed to drag myself out of bed and write this thing. Enjoy!

Hidden Message Eight.

"Take my seat."

"So this is what the human race has come down to."

Clara, for perhaps the millionth time in a row, resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Through gritted teeth, she replied, "You're just annoyed that you've lost your TARDIS. Again."

Like a child, the Doctor sulked, "I haven't lost my TARDIS, Clara. It only disappeared to…somewhere safer. It panicked."

"It's New York City – of course it'd panic," Clara muttered. "It's a given when you're in this place!" Her words took on a slightly shrill tone – and too late, there were already some people on the subway shooting Clara and the Doctor annoyed looks. One of the older women scooted a little away from the two, giving them a suspicious stare.

"Congratulations, Clara Oswald," the Doctor murmured under his breath. "Insult New Yorkers. That ought to work."

"Oh, quiet, you," Clara snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "We are not talking until we get to wherever the TARDIS went."

"Probably somewhere in Virginia."

Clara couldn't help herself. "Why Virginia?"

"Anywhere is safer than New York City."

Clara harrumphed and turned back around. "The silent game starts now," she said pointedly.

"Ah, yes, that's right. Let's start to revert to the oldest I'm-cross-with-you game to get a point across." The Doctor's voice was dripping with sarcasm, but Clara didn't react. She kept her eyes glaring at the window across from her. She could see her reflection – and she was somewhat pleased to find that even in the slightly distorted image of herself, she looked awfully annoyed. Annoyed and slightly bug-eyed. Whichever – it would at least keep people from looking at her any longer.

It wasn't even like Clara would usually get angry when the Doctor lost the TARDIS. After all, this had happened before on multiple occasions – but today, Clara was not in the mood for it. The only thing that actually happened in New York was almost getting run over by a taxi (and then a few angry protestors. Clara wasn't sure what they were protesting – there was just a lot of shouting). Of course, there was sightseeing to do, but by the end of it, Clara was tired. There were blisters all over her feet at this point, and she was looking forward to taking a long nap.

And…fine. She was mostly bothered that besides the angry protestors and the terrible driving, New York was normal. There weren't any aliens. There weren't any interesting, potentially dangerous things for the Doctor and Clara to uncover. And while that was a terrible thing to wish, Clara couldn't help but feel the slightest bit disappointed.

You've gotten to used to this, a small voice whispered at the back of Clara's mind. That's what's wrong with you. You can't honestly expect to escape by the fingernails each time you travel. You should be counting your blessings you're not risking your life all the time. Clara brushed the thought aside. Last year, she might have been relieved to realize that there wasn't any danger. But today, she couldn't concentrate on anything else.

The subway came to a short stop. Clara had to press herself a little deeper into her seat as a sudden flurry – flurry, Clara thought, her lips curling into the briefest of smiles. Flurry seemed to be the perfect word for busy New Yorkers – of people flooded into the subway. A family of five headed inside, along with a happy-looking couple, and a few middle-aged business men. They all looked rather official, talking away on their phones and looking ready to burst.

Clara politely scooted down a little as the family looked for a place to sit. The mother – a woman with tired, kind eyes – shot Clara a brief, relieved smile as she sat down. Clara only smiled in return as the mother picked her son up and placed him in her lap in an effort to take up less space. Clara felt her heart warm slightly at the sight, and though the family in itself was loud (there was another boy and a girl in the family. They wouldn't stop arguing over their phone chargers), Clara felt her annoyance ebb away a little. She even managed to shoot the Doctor a brief look, though he wasn't focusing on the family.

Or maybe he was and just pretending not to.

No matter. Clara turned her attention back to the other newcomers in the subway. She tried not to scoot any closer to the Doctor, but as more people crowded in, she was beginning to see the dilemma of possibly having to force herself to get closer to him.

However, just when Clara was sure she was going to be infinitely pressed against the Doctor, the doors closed. Clara let out a breath of relief, shooting a thankful glance at the few centimeters of space between herself and the Doctor. It wasn't that she had a problem with actually touching him – but right now, when she wasn't in the best of moods with him, it'd be better not to.

"Hey! You!"

Clara frowned, looking up to see a business man snapping his fingers at her.

"Excuse me?" she asked, puzzled. "Are you talking to me?"

"Yeah, you," the man replied, snapping his fingers again. He was holding up a phone, an annoyed look on his face. "Do ya mind if I have your seat? I need to sit down. Now." And though the man had asked Clara this, Clara had the strangest feeling that he wasn't looking for a refusal.

"Stop snapping your fingers at me," Clara only said, knitting her eyebrows together in bewilderment. "I'm not a dog."

"Dear God – no, Frank, I wasn't talking to you – there's some lady who won't give me her damn seat –" The man glared down at Clara. "Listen, woman, I've been walking around the streets for a half an hour and I'm tired. Give me your seat, will ya?"

"If you ask like that, I won't," Clara replied huffily.

"What even –"

The Doctor abruptly stood up. "Clara," he said, not looking down at her, "take my seat."

Clara frowned. "What? No," she responded, getting up to her feet. She glared up at the business man, and though the subway was knocking her off balance, she grabbed the Doctor's sleeve to keep herself upright. Wearing her fiercest scowl, Clara replied angrily, "There are plenty of other sections of the subway. Go sit in one of those."

The business man glowered at Clara. "You're a little bitch, aren't you?" he growled.

"I suppose that's why you kept snapping your fingers at me," Clara replied loftily. She pointed down the subway. "Go."

The man shot Clara and the Doctor a dirty glare, but eventually, he turned on his heel and left. Clara plopped back down on her seat. The Doctor sat down with her, the look in his eyes stormy. "I always knew I didn't trust business people for a reason," he said, shaking his head. "They're too stiff. And they wear their neckties like chokers. And they wear too much cologne. It reeks."

"Agreed."

After some silence, the Doctor asked, "Does this mean you're not cross with me anymore? We're talking again."

Clara only let out a sigh. "Let's call it a truce."

"I can work with a truce."

"Good."

A/N - As someone who has frequently been in NYC, I can tell you that this will happen every once in a while. (Just once in a while, though. Most New Yorkers are actually rather nice when you aren't trying to sell them something.)

Reviews would be great! (Especially today, because I'm so tired.) Constructive criticism is alright, but flames are not.