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"And just how long since we landed in Paris?" asked Clara, between bites of the pain béni the Doctor had brought her in token of apology for having let her sleep in so disgracefully late. Though she supposed that with the TARDIS, wasting the day was, well, impossible. She frowned, and didn't know quite why.
"Oh, six hours, give or take," said the Doctor airily as he stared into one of the control room's devices, which Clara's brain download of extensive, but mostly human, computer knowledge was only able to identify as "a manifold of some kind."
"Stepped out to get us a couple of cafés au lait," the Doctor continued, "spent the rest of the morning returning a poor little organic external subroutine to the guidance system it belonged to. Luckily I had help from a lovely man named Gerard de Nerval, managed to convince the police that the subroutine was just a lobster. Which we were taking for a walk." He hesitated. "In the park."
A worried thought momentarily clouded the Doctor's brow, as if he'd only just recalled enough Earth Natural History to realize what a mad grasping at straws that excuse had been. Still, it had worked, that was the important thing.
"Full marks for quick thinking, Gerard! And now --" he spun on his heel, managing to almost but not quite turn the movement into a pirouette, before stopping face to face with Clara "--that a Hollardopsid star-cruiser isn't going to fall on the city, and you've finished your breakfast, would you fancy a trip to the Louvre? I know it's a bit touristy, but I understand they've got a very interesting pyramid."
"Um, Doctor," Clara brushed the crumbs from her lap, "You said this was 1854. I don't think that part's been built yet."
"Oh, I wasn't talking about the pyramid out front," said the Doctor slyly.
"Oh, six hours, give or take," said the Doctor airily as he stared into one of the control room's devices, which Clara's brain download of extensive, but mostly human, computer knowledge was only able to identify as "a manifold of some kind."
"Stepped out to get us a couple of cafés au lait," the Doctor continued, "spent the rest of the morning returning a poor little organic external subroutine to the guidance system it belonged to. Luckily I had help from a lovely man named Gerard de Nerval, managed to convince the police that the subroutine was just a lobster. Which we were taking for a walk." He hesitated. "In the park."
A worried thought momentarily clouded the Doctor's brow, as if he'd only just recalled enough Earth Natural History to realize what a mad grasping at straws that excuse had been. Still, it had worked, that was the important thing.
"Full marks for quick thinking, Gerard! And now --" he spun on his heel, managing to almost but not quite turn the movement into a pirouette, before stopping face to face with Clara "--that a Hollardopsid star-cruiser isn't going to fall on the city, and you've finished your breakfast, would you fancy a trip to the Louvre? I know it's a bit touristy, but I understand they've got a very interesting pyramid."
"Um, Doctor," Clara brushed the crumbs from her lap, "You said this was 1854. I don't think that part's been built yet."
"Oh, I wasn't talking about the pyramid out front," said the Doctor slyly.
