The Doctor paced the corridor outside Clara's room. He paused, straightened his tie, paced a bit more, then checked the gold fob watch that he was wearing with his elegant late nineteenth century evening clothes. "Clara, we're going to be late!"

"Tell me again why I have to wear all this?" Clara called through the closed door.

"Well, it's a very posh event in Paris in 1875 and we don't want to stick out, now do we?"

"This isn't as easy as it looks," she grumbled.

"Er…do you need any…erm…help?" the Doctor asked, blushing furiously.

"No, thank you," Clara replied primly. The door slid open, and she stepped out into the corridor, carefully looping up the train of her crimson velvet opera gown.

The Doctor turned and his jaw dropped. "I…you…uh…"

Clara's eyes sparkled mischievously. "I'll take that reaction to mean that I got all this right."

"Indeed," the Doctor finally managed. Recovering his wits somewhat, he bowed formally and kissed Clara's white-kid-gloved hand. "You're stunning," he added, drawing her arm through his own.

"You're not so bad yourself, you know," Clara replied in a cheeky voice that was totally at odds with her formal appearance. "Now, what's this all about?"

The Doctor escorted her gallantly into the TARDIS's control room. "The very first inkling I had of your existence, was this music, being broadcast from the deep in the heart of the Dalek asylum." He touched a switch and the soaring notes of the Toreador Song filled the room.

"Carmen? That's my very favorite ballet!" Clara exclaimed.

"Ballet?" the Doctor faltered.

Clara nodded eagerly. "But I don't understand," she said, gesturing at their clothing. "Carmen is a twentieth century ballet."

The Doctor fidgeted with his tie. "Yes…er…well, I suppose I jumped to conclusions with the music, you see. I…wanted to show you something special, and well…I brought us to Paris, March 3, 1875. The opera, Carmen, is going to premiere tonight at the Opera-Comique, in about an hour."

"You did all this for me?" she asked, genuinely touched.

He nodded.

Clara reached up and straightened the Doctor's tie. "You know," she mused, "I've never actually been to an opera in a proper theatre. And we are all dressed up…"

"We are, indeed."

"Come on, then, we don't want to be late!" Laughing, Clara took the Doctor's hand and tugged him towards the door.