“It’s all very well, Doctor,” said Jamie, on the walk back to the concealed TARDIS, “and I’m glad you saved that Christmas woman from freezing to death in the snow, but did it have to be us?”
“Eh?” said the Doctor vaguely. Jamie had learned that this new Doctor liked to seem mysterious and evasive, and was rather better at it than the Doctor he tried to avoid thinking of as “his own one,” but he still liked to talk, too. So he asked again.
“Was there nobody else in Glencoe that would talk a bit of sense into her and her young man?”
“Oh, no, Jamie, that wasn’t why we were there, that was just our good deed for the day. Quite spontaneous,” explained the Doctor.
“Then why exactly were we spending Christmas pretending to be snowed in at a wretched hotel?”
“Ah.” The Doctor hit at a pebble with the tip of his recovered umbrella, not quite looking at Jamie. “You remember that red-headed girl, Miss Clara?”
“Aye,” said Jamie, taken aback.
“Well, she poses something of a mystery in the Web of Time, and I’m very much afraid that she has something to do with my future…”