"Oh, don't look so glum." Clara chastised and raised her glass, arms spread and fingers waggling with the hopeful quirk of her brow. When the Doctor's expression remained unchanging she let out a defeated breath and permitted her shoulders to sag, taking a sip with her lips over the existing makeup stain on the side of her glass. "You know," She breathed and made a vague gesture to the party's inhabitants. "Maybe if you loosened up and didn't insist on desperately clinging to this whole outward state of I don't give a damn, then maybe you might enjoy yourself a bit. Maybe."

"Maybe." His bored expression went unchanging.

"Come on. Have a drink. Socialize without scaring away the entire population of Great Britain."

"Is that an insult?"

"It's an order." She flagged down the criply waistcoat-clad bartender. "Go on, you drink don't you?"

"I never was one for wine last time. Not sure that much has changed." He screwed up his face and licked his lips in rememberance of the dissatisfying tang and sting.

Clara was hardly listening, rambling off a string of humany words that the Doctor assumed must have resulted in some sort of beverage that appealed to her kind. He let a noisy grumble of disaproval make itself known but silenced when Clara shot him a glare.

"Remind me why I'm here." He was shocked by the sincerity of her response, soft hand on his, head tilted slightly so she could meet his gaze just right.

"Because you're a good man."

He blinked, far from amused. A smile graced Clara's lips and she withdrew with a laugh.

"I told you! Atif's been with us nearly twenty years and his retirement is a big deal. We're gonna miss him."

"He's a caretaker."

"He's a kind old man and deserves our gratitude!"

The Doctor spun a few gloomy circles on his stool until Clara tapped his should for attention, looked up to see her holding a dark purple substance beneath his nose. He recoiled as if brutally assaulted. "Get that away from me!"

"Just try it!"

"I told you I don't do wine!"

"But if you'd just-"

"I don't want it."

"But just-"

"Clara!"

"Fine." She pointedly returned it to the table and folded her arms, fingertips drumming against her shoulder before she leaned forward. "Why can't you just try and enjoy yourself?"

"Why couldn't you have brought P.E. instead?" His focus went to her right hand as it lifted his forgotten glass a swirled around the substance in a lazy circle. He felt a soft, unrecognizable pang at the look in her eyes as her gaze dropped, head tilted away and her lips pursed with a puff of breath.

"Off at another conference." Those expressive brown eyes fixated on nothing as if considering, realizing but then denying. She cleared her throat and the Doctor suspected reasons beyond a bit of a tickle in her throat. But just as quickly as it had come on her party-ready attitude was back and she straightened, giving his arm a tug. "Come on."

"Are we leaving?" He asked hopefully.

"Nope!" She giggled with childlike giddy. "Come on. I love this song." Before he was protest he was dragged straight to the middle of the dance floor.

"Oh, no." He laughed and shook his head wildly with a quick backpedal. "Nope. Not happening." The chase rammed his back straight into the counter and brought on a wince. Not of pain but fear. She was relentless in a way he didn't mind but somehow very much minded. "Clara!"

She took his arm again and tugged his sleeve with such amused excitement he actually found himself considering. No. No. No.

"I don't dance."

Clara pouted a disbelieving, oh come on. "Doctor."

"Clara..."

"Doctor."

He didn't know how it happened but they took the floor. Men and women were perfectly occupied with each other and he blessed the fact. Last thing he needed was for his brisk, sharp caretaker reputation to be intruded.

Clara's fingertips waggled impatiently in the air and he seized them with uncertainty. "There you go." She encouraged. "Not so bad, is it?"

"Suppose not." He mumbled.

"But Doctor-"

"Hm?"

"You do realize we have to move, right?"

He stared down at their feet, hers in her heels shifting restlessly while his converse-clad pair remained glued to the floor. Clara followed his gaze and gasped.

"What the hell are those?"

"Old sneakers I used to wear a couple regenerations ago. They fit and they're comfortable, so..."

"So you decided to wear them to a dance?"

"In my defense, you never said this was a dance."

Clara gently kicked his toe. "They're beat up and disgusting. You've got to be joking."

"Don't tell me how to live my life."

Clara rolled her eyes and loosened with a giggle. "Come on. Let's do this." They were becoming an eye sore in the midst of twirling couples. She gave his shoe another nudge with her own. "I'll teach you. Step back with this foot while I step forward and-" He slowly began to move along with her accord. "There you go. Not bad!"

While his feet were complying a forlorn expression was stuck to the Doctor's face. He glanced over his shoulder at the bar. Suddenly that drink wasn't sounding so horrible-

"Don't you dare look back." Clara chastised and squeezed his hand a bit harder. His eyes darted back forward. "Just keep your eyes on me." She encouraged. Their gazes locked and suddenly seemed unbreakable. He felt it in his chest so deeply he had no choice but to calm. Clara smiled, the Doctor relaxed. "There you go."

"You're the one holding back." He noted. Suddenly Clara seemed far more unsure than he'd been this whole time. Had he done something wrong?

Their eye contact broke just long enough for her to close her eyes and shake her head. Honestly she was in utter shock he had given in so quickly. It made her heart warm and flutter and her smile grow. "Shut up and dance with me."

And so he did. It started out slow, like a waltz that was a bit too loose, but Clara would take what she could get. But soon the music escalated. Slow dances transitioned to a series of rapid beats that got hips moving and teeth showing in wide grins and thrilled laughs. The Doctor grew quite talented at those twirls too, not nearly ready to admit he performed the action so repeatedly because of how happy Clara's excited giggle made him each time.

We were victims of the night,

The chemical, physical, kryptonite

Helpless to the bass and faded light