“What’s that?” The Doctor peered at what Clara was eating. He’d shown up, as usual, at a very inconvenient time. Teachers didn’t get much in the way of a lunchbreak.
“It’s a muffin. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen one before.”
“Of course I have, just not one quite like that.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
Clara frowned at her muffin; it looked perfectly fine to her, and tasted even better.
“Well, it’s not brown, and it’s got little dark bits in it. You shouldn’t eat it. It might’ve gone off.”
“It’s a blueberry muffin! It’s supposed to look like this.”