The fact that the Doctor had come to find her was a huge relief to Clara. She tried to tell herself that it was because she had been worried he'd leave, get lost and she'd never find him again, which would cause a whole new set of problems, but she knew that it was actually because she would miss him terribly. It was selfish, but the first thing that jumped to mind when she thought of losing track of him was how her life would be affected, not the entire universe.

He was walking beside her now, waving his hands animatedly as he tried to explain his current situation to her. All she could do was laugh lightly at how determined he was to convince her that he wasn't nuts, because she knew exactly what had happened. "I think someone might have slipped something into my drink, or—or—or something. I honestly can't imagine what happed, really, but I assume it's just temporary memory loss because that's the only thing that would make—" He broke off suddenly and glanced down at her. "And I'm rambling, aren't I? I think I do that a lot. Yes. Yes I do. I ramble quite a lot. Oh, that's brilliant!" He laughed gleefully.

Clara almost rolled her eyes at him, but seeing him jump about and talk excitedly at her, just like he had before he'd become human and lost his memory, was a pleasant surprise. She had imagined the Doctor as many things while he was human, but a boring, normal old bloke was not one of them. To see just a hint of his old self peeking through was a relief to her. "So," She began, glancing around as they walked, "Do you have any idea at all where your flat is?" Admittedly, she'd realized they would probably run into this problem sooner or later. The Doctor was not good at planning ahead, and it had probably just slipped his mind in preparation for some kind of situation popping up that would require him to have a flat.

He coughed nervously and reached up to, once again, straighten his already-straightened bowtie. "No," He admitted. "Not really. That's what I was hoping you could help me with. Did I tell you anything last night, like where I live or anything?"

She chuckled. "No, sorry."

"Really?" He sounded shocked. "Nothing at all? Really?" He waved his hands about, a bit uselessly. "But I would have thought…" He trailed off, sounding more exasperated with himself than with her. "Really?"

"Really really." Clara smiled at him and shook her head. "If I remembered anything, I woulda told you."

"Yes, yes, I suppose you're right." The Doctor heaved a sigh and ran his hands through his hair, something she'd seen him do many times before when he was nervous.

They turned the corner onto a new street. "Anything coming back to you?" Clara prompted gently, hoping some fake memory would eventually surface for him and give them at least a vague idea of where to go.

"No, no, I don't think so," he replied, scanning the streets curiously.

"Well, keep looking maybe something will come back—" Clara dropped off mid-sentence as she heard a noise coming from behind them, like sandpaper scratching against the pavement. Hoping the Doctor wouldn't notice, she glanced back over her shoulder and caught sight of a young woman shuffling along about two meters behind them. Maybe it was the ragged, limping way she walked, or the milky whiteness of her eyes, or the green tinge to her hands, but Clara remembered suddenly what the Doctor had said about the aliens they were hiding from. They're blind. Clara panicked, wondering how the Time Lord had somehow forgotten to tell her that they were shapeshifters, and realized quickly that she needed to get the now-human Doctor away from the creature as quickly as possible.

He had, however, noticed her sudden change in behavior. "Clara?" He asked, coming to a stop and glancing over at her curiously. "Everything all right?"

"Uh, it's… fine," She replied slowly, flicking her gaze up to his for a second and giving him the most convincing smile she could muster before looking up and down the street for something, anything. She noticed a young boy sitting on the stoop almost at the other end of the street and pointed. "You should go talk to him," She said quickly. "Maybe he'll recognize you."

"Oh. Well." The Doctor peered into the distance and then shrugged. "Worth a shot, isn't it?" He grinned at her, completely convinced by her hasty cover-up, and jogged down the sidewalk.

Clara heaved a breath and stopped walking, turning instead to confront the blind woman still stumbling steadily towards her. Now that she was much closer, Clara could indeed see that the skin on her fingers and hands was composed of tiny, greenish scales, like they were in the creature's natural form. Her eyes were white, but as she approached, Clara got the distinct feeling she was being watched anyways.

She forced a tone of steadiness into her voice. "Can I help you?" She asked.

The disguised alien clearly was not put off by her show of courage. Instead, she raised one reptilian finger and stroked it across Clara's cheek, the tiny scales catching on her skin. "My dear," She crooned, her voice thick and sweet as honey. "I sense Time Lord on you. Have you rewritten your biology again, my sweet?"

When she opened her mouth, the smell of her breath hit Clara right in the face—while the creature's voice was smooth and flowery, its breath was anything but. It reeked of decay and death so strongly that it was all Clara could do to keep from stumbling backwards, gagging. Instead, she cursed inwardly. He said they could sense Time Lords. Can they really sense the tinge of it on me? I showered and everything! But despite her inner monologue of panic, she had to keep up the story well enough so that the thing would leave before the Doctor came bouncing back, almost definitely carrying a much stronger Time Lord sense than she. "I don't know what a Time Lord is, ma'am. Are your hands okay? They don't look too good."

The alien withdrew its hand, letting out a small, irritable hiss. "I'm quite fine." It stayed for a second, its blind eyes staring right into Clara's, before it evidently decided that she was not the Time Lord they were searching for. It turned and began to shuffle back down the street, and Clara distinctly heard it muttering about the 'damn things—always leaving traces of themselves on everywhere and everything'.

Clara let out a long sigh of relief, and turned just as the Doctor came bounding back, looking excited about something. "Hello again!" She greeted him. "Any luck?"

He stopped and stared at her for a second, wide-eyed. "Luck with… what?"

"With finding your flat," Clara reminded him, a trace of exasperated amusement entering her tone. "What were you talking to him about?"

"Oh! Right! That!" The Doctor smacked one hand to his forehead, and then pointed excitedly at his bowtie. "But it was almost as good! I went down to speak to him and he said he liked my bowtie, and I told him that yes, that was because bowties were cool, and then he said his mum was trying to teach him how to tie a bowtie but he still couldn't learn, so then I had to teach him. It was fun!"

"You weren't even gone for that long," Clara responded incredulously. "How did you teach a little boy to tie a bowtie that quickly?"

"I don't know!" He grinned. "Brilliant, isn't it? It's like I have superhuman bowtie-tying skills!"

Clara shook her head at his childish excitement, but couldn't stop herself from chuckling a little. "All right, well since you were absolutely no help, we'll just have to keep looking."

He nodded in agreement and kept walking. Clara made to follow him, but was interrupted by yet another surprise coming from behind them as she heard footsteps and someone call out a name.

"Doctor?"

a/n: Hey! If you made it this far, I'd really appreciate a review. Just a few words, it doesn't take long and it makes me more motivated to update! That's all, hope you liked the chapter and happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers! c: