Chapter Twenty-Five: Listen

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Wanda frowned when she saw McKenzie alone in the console room, the doors standing wide open on a view of the slowly turning Earth. "Where's the Doctor?"

McKenzie turned a page in her book. "On the roof, being dramatic."

There was a clunk from the doorway, and Wanda looked round to see the Doctor landing in a crouch.

"Okay," McKenzie said, unsurprised. "Now he's in here being dramatic."

"Question," the Doctor began. "Why do we talk out loud when we know we're alone?"

"Because it's a natural human response to fill the silence?" Wanda suggested, sitting down on the jump seat next to McKenzie.

The Doctor raised a finger. "Because we know we're not."

"Oh, not this one again," McKenzie sighed, rolling her eyes. "Every hundred or so years, without fail."

"Evolution perfects survival skills," the Doctor explained to them, ignoring their sceptical expressions. "There are perfect hunters. There is perfect defence. Question—why is there no such thing as perfect hiding? Answer—how would you know? Logically, if evolution were to perfect a creature whose primary skill were to hide from view, how could you know it existed? It could be with us every second and we would never know. How would you detect it, even sense it, except in those moments when, for no clear reason, you choose to speak aloud? What would such a creature want? What would it do?" He turned to address the rest of the room, his eyes wide. "Well? What would you do?"

"He's gone mad, hasn't he?" Wanda realised. "Madder than usual, I mean."

McKenzie watched him fondly, shaking her head. "This is what happens when he goes more than a week without seeing anyone else. It's cabin fever."

***

Clara unlocked the door to her flat and walked in, dejected. She slipped off her high heels, let her bare feet relax into her soft carpet, and let out a long, embarrassed groan.

***

Earlier that evening, she'd entered the restaurant to find Danny already there. He raised his hand in a wave. "Hey."

"Hey," she returned, going to shake his hand as he went in to kiss her cheek. "Sorry." They both sat down, nervous. "So, the famous drink at last."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Took a bit of time, family stuff, but here we are."

"Dinner, in fact."

"Yeah, straight to dinner."

Clara smiled. "I like a man who moves fast." Inexplicably, her mind flashed to the photo Wanda had shown her of her brother, the speedster. She blinked hard, shaking it away.

"Yeah, I might go straight for extras," Danny commented, then winced. "Afters. Dessert."

"Yes, I know, I know," she reassured him. "Dessert."

"Straight to dessert."

"Gotcha."

"So, er... how was your day?" he asked.

"Good." She tilted her head. "You know, teaching."

"Yep, teaching."

"Teaching, teaching."

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