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[makemeasong]

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[makemeasong]

[ Both hands rest in his for a few beats before letting go to hold onto only one. She doesn't let go as they walk and without saying anything at all, she lets her fingers interlock with his. It's a statement, that she's here and solid and with him.

Letting them into her one-room flat, she's decorated with a few plants and pieces of artwork. There are already more books scattered about than anything else. And there, right next to her bed, is the little bird. ]

Don't mind the books. Working on recommended magical reading.

[twelfthsong]

[ When he feels her hand grip hers, he lets her. There's no desire to pull away. No sense of creeping discomfort that usually comes from someone encroaching on his personal space. Just security and warmth.

He follows her obediently back towards her flat, leaving the day of mission behind them. Despite noting the mechanical bird he doesn't say anything although his eyes linger before moving towards the books to examine them. He looks at titles recognizing several that Obi-Wan had been reading. ]

Did you ask someone for a recommended list?

[makemeasong]

There are classes, so I picked up a list and looked them up at the library. Did you know I started working there, by the way? If I'm not going to be chipped I'll need to make more money to accommodate this lavish lifestyle.

[ She smirks and tugs her sonic out of her pocket, sitting on the couch and sitting cross-legged, facing him. ]

Alright, show me what this bad boy can do. Actually, she. I've named her Pheobe.

[twelfthsong]

You paid for all of this?

[ He suddenly realizes how kitted out her flat actually is. The Doctor hadn't necessarily put a ton of effort into decorating his flat so much as he had simply accumulated things by bartering or making use of things that the Witches had discarded. Another man's trash was a Time Lord's treasure after all.

The Doctor cares less about the money and more about Clara's newly christened sonic screwdriver. He sits down beside her, lips twisting. ]

Why Pheobe?

[makemeasong]

[ Clara gives him a small smile as she examines it proudly. ]

Mother of the moon and stars goddess, granddaughter of the goddess of witchcraft. I dunno, seemed appropriate. I think it works, don't you?

[twelfthsong]

[ The explanation suddenly does make sense and delight lights up his gaze. ]

Very fitting. Hopefully she watches over you. [ He motions to it. ] What do you want to do with it? Give me a scenario.

[makemeasong]

[ Clara bites at her lip, thinking of a time he's used the sonic. ]

Oh, someone's locked up who shouldn't be and we're trying to break them out. What setting? [ Clara's leaning close to him, maybe unnecessarily close. But unless he moves, she's staying. ]

[twelfthsong]

[ Clara’s boldness doesn’t go unnoticed. His eyes flicker to her briefly but he doesn’t say or move away otherwise. He’d rather her close than hurt and not there at all.

He pulls out his own sonic, demonstrating the motions. ]

Press that one and that one. Bit easier to show you with an actual lock. But it also depends on the lock. The one I showed you will do the trick for most of them, but if you get one that’s a little bit complicated it’ll take a little bit more finesse.

[makemeasong]

[ She knows better than to push it, and for now, she'll take this and be happy. ]

This one does do wood, right? [ She has to tease him gently, turning her head and smiling at him, which is when she realizes she may have gotten too close to him. She doesn't want to set herself up for failure, but she doesn't want to make it awkward either. So she simply carries on. ]

Who makes a sonic good on everything except wood?

[twelfthsong]

[ A bit of an annoyed look passes his face at the mention of his constant forgetfulness to make that a setting. It's more aimed at himself than at Clara since he knows it's just good natured ribbing. ]

There are other important things to consider than just the wood setting. But it's also more complicated than that. Anyway what next?

[makemeasong]

[ Clara goes through a few different settings with him, trying them out when they can, before she begins to rub her eyes, a sign of her tiredness creeping back after the brief short wind. ]

I think I've learned all that my brain can handle for today. Need to turn it off for a while again after...everything.

[twelfthsong]

You did well. It gets easier with more repetition - but also your brain might kick in a flight versus fight moment.

[ There's a moment where he sits there, wondering if he should leave. It's really written all over his face and he's likely to keep thinking about it unless Clara says something one way or another. ]

[makemeasong]

[ For a second she thinks she might want to tell him what's been on her mind, what she's been thinking since she arrived in this place because she doesn't know what'll happen to her now that the Zygons have her. Her heart beats a little fast, and she knows he can hear it. But she clears her throat and looks down at the sonic in her hands. ]

I'm having my chip removed tomorrow. Do you want to come? [ She looks back up at him, eyes meeting his. ]

[twelfthsong]

[ The Doctor does hear her heartbeats, but for what it's worth only chalks it up to the question that she asks him next. ]

If you want me there, I will be.

[makemeasong]

[ Clara's so close to him that she can smell the faint scent of the forest on his skin; the outside air clings to him even though the adventure is over. It's always this moment she thinks of in the after, especially now, when his hair is still a little wild but his eyes have relaxed. A little disheveled, still a bit worried about her. If he could hear more than just her heart, she thinks he might get up and leave.

She nods, clearing her throat and finally looking away from him. Leaning forward as a distraction, she places her sonic gently on the table. When her hands are empty, Clara doesn't know what to do with them, tucking her hair behind her ears before rubbing the back of her neck. ]

Yeah, I do. Just in case it hurts.

[twelfthsong]

[ Time Lord biology lends to enhanced everything: hearing, eyesight, smell and taste to name a few. There are times when it doesn't look like he's paying much attention to anything at all but that's a lie. His body won't let him be ignorant to his surroundings even when he wants to be.

It's not a bad excuse, but it's the only one he can come up with that could explain why he's suddenly fixated on aspects of Clara he normally wouldn't. Like how the smell of the medical bay still permeates on her skin, covering the scent that he's come to associate with her, or how he wondered if her hands also felt restless when they weren't doing something. But that could be easily traced back to her nervousness about the chip removal. ]

It won't. The Witches have advanced technology; everyone I've spoken to who's had it removed by them said so. [ The Doctor's gaze is steady on Clara's, pushing some levity into his voice in an attempt to dispel her fears. ] You don't plan on doing something stupid like passing on the anesthesia, do you? Because Clara, if we're being honest, that sounds like something I would do and I wouldn't recommend doing anything like me.

[makemeasong]

[ Clara looks at him, then looks at the sonic on the table. ]

I sort of thought about pointing that at my neck and seeing what happens. It's a little chip, figured it can't be as bad as being shot.

[ Her eyes move back to the Doctor's, almost positive he isn't going to have anything in support of her idea. ]

[twelfthsong]

[ There's a look of alarm that quickly turns into a scrutinizing frown as he tries to figure out if she's being serious. From the look she's giving him though it's clear to him that she was seriously entertaining the idea. ]

By yourself? You were just going to hold a mirror to your neck and assume that the sonic was on the right setting to deactivate it? How were you going to take it out?

[makemeasong]

[ She was definitely going to try it. ]]

I dunno, if it's deactivated does it necessarily need to come out? I assumed the sonic would know once the chip is off.

[ Assumed, but she had no real idea. ]

[twelfthsong]

There's probably a reason the Witches take it out. If it can be deactivated while still inside of you, what's stopping the Sylphid from reactivating?

[ A huff leaves his lips. ]

Do you just not want a scar on the back of your neck or something? Your hair would cover it.

[makemeasong]

[ Her nose wrinkles at the implied vanity. ]

No, I just...don't trust them.

[ Her hand goes to the back of her neck, rubbing a little. ]

I know we're on 'their' side but what's to stop them from doing anything else while they take it out?

[twelfthsong]

I'll be there.

[ He says it so matter of fact as if he's an unstoppable force that no one would dare to try and cross. There's an undertone of conviction to it as if he would do anything to protect this woman that is Clara - that he wants so badly to be his Clara - that he'd do more than just raise a stink in the middle of the med bay for her. ]

If they want to try anything they'd have a very difficult time getting it past me. That's why you want me there, isn't it? To keep an eye on you during the procedure.

[makemeasong]

[ Something about the way he says it makes her feel warm. She nods at his words, again feeling herself lean closer like he's a magnet. All she wants is to be close to him after what happened, but she'll be bordering on clinging and doesn't want that. ]

I need you there because I don't trust anyone else. Especially when they stand behind me with a sharp object. That's how I got the idea to do it myself, keep anyone from cutting me at all.

[twelfthsong]

[ There's suddenly a weariness to his voice. He understands not trusting anyone here as much as the next person and Clara's caution is absolutely warranted, but surgery, especially to the back of the neck seemed reckless in his eyes.

Gently he places a hand on Clara's. ]

You could have asked me to do it if you were worried about someone getting behind you with a sharp object.

[makemeasong]

[ Without thinking about her actions or words, Clara turns her hand so that it's holding onto his. She's looking at him, eyes a deep pool of brown and sure of what she's asking. ]

Will you do it for me, please?