Just so you know - updates will be fairly sporadic from now on. I have many important exams this year and not as much time to write as I would like.

Enjoy the chapter and please review, and give me requests if you have any!

Clara: Doctor.

Clara: Doctor, are you there?

Clara: DOCTORRRRRR.

Twelfth Doctor: Ugh! Can't you leave me in peace for one second?

Clara: Sure.

Clara: Right, it's been a second. I'm back.

Doctor: It's pointless telling you anything.

Clara: You only just learned that?

Doctor: Fine, what do you want this time?

Clara: Well, that's nice! No 'hello' or 'how've you been' or 'can I stop by tomorrow to make sure you haven't died or anything'?

Doctor: Absolutely not. You're the one who wrote to me. It's your job to ask how I'm doing.

Clara: Etiquette is completely lost on you.

Doctor: I'm a Time Lord. I don't have to deal with such trivial things as etiquette.

Clara: Rubbish. Try saving the universe without saying 'you're welcome'. It's impossible.

Doctor: Not for me.

Clara: Just the other day I got you to wear a napkin on your lap while you ate! That's etiquette.

Doctor: No, that's not etiquette, that's 'doing what I have to do to save myself from Clara Oswald's fury'. Big difference.

Clara: I can't stand it. I can't stand people who keep arguing even though they know I'm right.

Clara: I'm always right!

Doctor: Well, if saying that isn't a breach of etiquette, then I don't know what is.

Clara: You know what? We're moving on.

Doctor: But I'm not finished discussing your etiquette breaches.

Clara: Well, I am.

Clara: Since you didn't bother to ask me how I was, I'll just go straight ahead to the reason why I texted you in the first place.

Doctor: I'm absolutely enraptured.

Clara: Even over text you make me want to smack you.

Clara: I wrote to you because I've been getting some weird emails lately.

Doctor: You've probably signed up to too many 'how to make my face less round' newsletters.

Clara: Shut up!

Clara: No, these are extra weird. It's not just random spam.

Doctor: How do you know?

Clara: Because the emails aren't just in English. They're also in a bunch of other languages that don't look anything like Earth languages.

Clara: I figured since you're a Time Lord, you could help.

Doctor: Erm... I think I have to go...

Clara: No, wait.

Clara: I can tell what all the bits in other languages are saying, though. Probably an extension of the TARDIS translation matrix.

Doctor: I really need to go...

Clara: JUST WAIT.

Clara: The emails are all about intergalactic deals. 'Buy your vortex manipulator today for half-off. Comes in pink or black.' Things like that.

Doctor: I... wouldn't know anything about that.

Clara: Then tell me why the emails are all addressed to 'Dear Rock'n'Rollin'Doctor'.

Doctor: Erm.

Clara: Spill the beans, Mister. I already gave you a million chances to tell the truth. Come on.

Doctor: Well... it was a great username, no?

Clara: No.

Doctor: I thought so.

Clara: I don't care what you thought, and stop trying to distract me. I want to know why I'm getting intergalactic spam that's not even addressed to me!

Doctor: Sure, I'll tell you.

Doctor: Just let me take care of this thing I'm doing first...

Clara: We both know you're stalling for time.

Clara: I'll make you eat one of my soufflés unless you tell me.

Doctor: No! I'll tell you. I'll tell you.

Clara: This better be good.

Doctor: Two reasons.

Doctor: One: spying.

Doctor: Two: shopping.

Clara: WAIT. You shop?

Doctor: There were some great deals! I could get ten bunches of bananas for the equivalent of fifty pence!

Clara: Okay, forget I asked. Fine. You wanted good deals. What about the spying?

Doctor: Well, that's more complicated... are you sure you want to know?

Clara: Tell. Me. Everything.

Doctor: And you promise I won't have to eat a soufflé?

Clara: If you behave.

Doctor: Fine.

Doctor: I've been tracking the purchases of a society called the Dark Star. They're like the intergalactic Mafia. I wanted to see what they were up to, so I created an account on the shopping website. And then I... tweaked my settings a little, so I could see what they were buying.

Clara: You are evil.

Doctor: Thank you.

Clara: And I suppose your strategy worked.

Doctor: Since when do my strategies not work?

Clara: Since always.

Doctor: Well, this one did. I've been seeing all their purchases and I now know enough to guess what their next act of mischief will be.

Clara: Whatever it is won't be as bad as this act of mischief from you, Mister Sneaky.

Doctor: Mister Sneaky...?

Clara: You hacked my email account! How did you even know the password?

Doctor: Sonic screwdrivers have remarkable code-cracking capabilities.

Clara: I'm going to break that stupid bleeper over your head!

Doctor: I'd like to see you try!

Clara: Really? Would you?

Doctor: Okay, no, not really.

Clara: Because you know I'd do it, that's why. So you better watch out. And stay far away from my email account.

Doctor: Would saying sorry help?

Clara: No.

Clara: You know what I want to know? Did you honestly think I wasn't going to find out?

Doctor: I guess I accidentally signed up to the weekly newsletter or something.

Clara: Why didn't you use your own email address?

Doctor: I don't have one.

Clara: You're joking.

Doctor: No, I'm not! I'm too busy for email addresses. I'm perfectly content with stealing others.

Doctor: That sounded better in my head.

Clara: Your days of hacking email accounts are over. My place, tonight, 8:00.

Clara: And that's February 15th, before you can ask.

Doctor: ...Why?

Clara: We're making you an email address. And I've got plenty of soufflés in the house , so don't even think about trying to argue.

Doctor: But Clara!

Clara: And don't be late!

Doctor: Late is relative.

Clara: Sure - relative to the smack you'll get if you keep up the snarkiness.

Clara: 8:00. My house. And bring those chocolate-covered cookies you've got hidden under your bed.

Doctor: What? How did you know about those?

Clara: I know everything.

Clara: See you in a bit;)

Doctor: If I must.