Though Sigma rises early, most days he does not withdraw from his room. When Avoxes could bring food right to his door there was little reason to leave and stir up his social anxiety. But as the delicious scent of homemade fried food wafts through the District Suite, not even Sigma can resist investigating - for the first time in months, the door to Sigma's room cracks open and the quiet old man emerges.

The smell is unbelievable. It brings back with it memories over six decades old, memories of his mother waking, slow with sleep, to begin her son's morning with a nutritious home-cooked meal. He realizes suddenly that he never thought to do so for his own children, not once.

The Doctor shuffles into the kitchen and gawks awkwardly. The feast is gradually making itself from the frypan into serving dishes, and it is a sight in which Sigma has very few memories to compare. He clears his throat quietly, not to get Clara's attention, but so he might speak. There were times he went days without talking. "Ah. ...Was this meal for.. anyone in particular?"