The alien is looking down its very impressive nose at them, like they’re nothing more than bugs to be squished beneath its thumb. If it even has thumbs. Clara doesn’t think she’s ever felt smaller or more insignificant; she can practically feel herself shrinking, shrivelling away beneath the haughty glare.
Not so the Doctor, it’s like water off a duck’s back to him. He just smiles brightly, bouncing on his heels.
“We’re invited, see?” He flashes his psychic paper. “The Doctor plus one. This is my plus one.”
A gravelly sigh escapes the alien. “Very well. Enter.”
“Come along Clara.”