[She distinctly remembers his tearing off her panties that first night together, and her making him promise to replace them. There's a smirk curling up at the edge of her smile, one that she has to squash down in order to give him as exasperated of a look as she can manage.

Which, unfortunately, isn't quite as sharp of a look as she'd like. He really has a way of making her go soft.]

Well, I certainly admire your show of restraint. As does my entire wardrobe, sparse as it is.

[There's a dry retort before she abandons the dress to creep over behind him, one arm wrapping around him. She really appreciates him helping out, but knows he likely wouldn't want to draw attention to the fact he's doing it. So instead she rounds back to the topic of the Doctors. Specifically, the Doctors and her place with them. The role she plays in their lives in comparison to the role she's supposed to be playing here.

She's starting to feel ordinary and useless in this place, like she can't meaningfully contribute to the missions in the same way everyone else can. She doesn't have powers, isn't a fighter, doesn't have a specific skill set she was trained for. She's just Clara, and for once in her life, she wonders if that's enough. If she's enough. Her ego and pride never have let her entertain those sorts of thoughts before. But after being knocked down a few thousand pegs after facing the raven, things are...well, different. Everything has changed.

But she knows that he doesn't see her that way. That he'll let her talk and get out what she needs to without judging her. Or without judging her too much, anyway.]

Ask me if I've ever thought about not being their carer. I know you must have wondered just now.