When the doorbell to the Maitland’s house rang at noon that day, Clara had pulled open to the door to find her old college roommate, Krystal Clarke, who she hadn’t heard from since college. Both girls had embraced and Clara had immediately gone and made Krystal a cup of tea.
It was when she got back and saw the other girl still standing in the center of the living room that Clara became a little worried. “You can sit down,” she insisted. “It looks nice, I know, but it’s a lot more lived-in than you would expect.”
“I’m fine,” Krystal said; Clara noticed that there was suddenly no emotion in the other girl’s voice.
“I insist,” Clara added, placing the teacup in Krystal’s strangely ice-cold hand. Krystal held it for a second, but then allowed it to drop on the floor, where it shattered, tea staining the white rug and pooling on the hardwood floor. Clara didn’t have time to be angry, as she noticed that there was now what appeared to be a gun coming out of Krystal’s hand.
“Oh my stars,” Clara whispered looking up at her former roommate to see a single blue eye stalk suddenly bursting out of her forehead before she lost consciousness.
Hours later, Clara woke up in a dark, cell-like room, her ankle chained to a wall, and looking at what appeared to be an armed pepper pot screaming at her. It asked her endlessly about her travels with the Doctor, but she didn’t answer. After a while, it finally gave up and left her alone in the dark cell.