action; oh sweet zombie jesus this is gonna be good
[There's the sound of two solid thumps and more thumps that draw closer, before Clara's door flies open. There stands a short, angry, armed fifteen year old in the doorway. Her hair's a mess and she's running on an hour of restless sleep.]
What the fuck is going on? Why are we shouting at ball sack o'clock in the morning! What the fuck is that thing? [She gestures at the big blue box with her machete.]