"Clara." But he Doctor's voice is soft and worried, just a bit, as he actually stops. Stops and looks and feels his hearts break in two, because all he can picture is Clara, sick, dying, pleading, and his free hand touches the old and frayed bowtie.
"--Do you not like stuffed animals? Everyone likes stuffed animals. Tony already brought balloons--and he's quite god at disarming bombs, by the way--so stuffed animals, now that was the safest bet..."