For those who want a continuation to the previous part...

CONTEXT
The Doctor: Karen Gillan
Matthias Lake: Young Matt Smith
Episode: The Eleventh Hour
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With a tower draped over her shoulder, offered to her by the boy, the Doctor enters the kitchen. Her red hair is still dripping wet, even after her efforts to wring it dry. The young child who she first saw approached her, handing her the fruit she desired.

"You can go away now."

"What?" The Doctor questions, turning the apple around as though she was inspecting for defects.

"An apple a day keeps the Doctor away," the kid replies simply with a smirk on his face as he washes his hands. Funny.

Having no idea what that meant, the Doctor ignores him and sinks her teeth into the juicy fruit. Worst decision of her life, well, new life. Is it considered new?

Returning from the sink, the boy asks out of curiosity, "If you're a doctor, why does your box say police?"

Instead of giving a proper reply, she spits out the bits of the fruit in her mouth. She sees his face scrunch up before backing away by a step.

The  Doctor turns back to him and remarks, "That's disgusting. What is that?"

He blinks. This kid sure likes to blink a lot.

"An apple. And you didn't answer me."

She sticks her tongue out, "Apple's rubbish. I hate apples."

"You said you loved them."

She shakes her head. When did she ever say that? Maybe it was her previous self, but she would remember meeting such a kid back then.

"No, no, no," she says, "I like yoghurt. Yoghurt's my favourite. Give me yoghurt."

Scratching his head, the boy shuffles towards the fridge and opens it. He grabs a pot of yogurt out and reaches for a spoon to hand to the Doctor. Snatching the dessert out of his hands without taking the spoon, she pours the yogurt into her mouth, and once again, spits it out. She had expected a smooth texture but instead was cheated by the innocent looking yoghurt.

Either her tongue isn't working or the boy is just torturing her by giving the wrong sorts of food. She decides it's the latter.

"I hate yoghurt. It's just stuff with bits in."

The boy, who was staring at her with eyes wide open, rebuts, "You said it was your favourite."

She grinds her teeth and exercises her mouth by opening and closing it, "New mouth. New rules."

"Wha-"

"It's like eating after cleaning your teeth. Everything tastes wrong. Argh!"

Her muscles contract unexpectedly, causing her to twitch violently. Losing her balance, she clings onto the kitchen countertop to steady herself. After gaining control, she looks up at the boy, who has his hand out again for who knows what. If he's expecting a handshake then he isn't getting one.

"What is it?" He asks with a hint of concern, "What's wrong with you?"

Her mood suddenly turned from white to black, "Wrong with me? It's not my fault. Why can't you give me any decent food?"
She takes note of his physical appearance, "You're an English boy. Fry something."

Hesitating, the kid walks away to grab a frying pan out from the cupboard under the sink. She watches him grab some meat from the fridge and a stool to stand on, all while using the towel to dry her red hair.

"Ah, bacon!"

She readies herself at the table for a fork and knife, banging them on the table twice as he serves the nearly burnt bacon to her. She eyes it suspiciously, then puts the meat in her mouth.

Of course, the flavour was too overwhelming for her, and the next thing the boy knew, it was back on the plate.

"Bacon. That's bacon. Are you trying to poison me?"

Rounds and rounds of food testing went on. The child had made baked beans and bread and butter, just to name a few, all of them to be rejected by the Doctor. The beans were spat into the sink, while the bread and butter met a worse fate of being thrown out of the house. The boy was close to giving up as he looks into the fridge one last time. Maybe she was being too hard on him.

"We've got some carrots," he says, a little drained from all the cooking he had done.

"Carrots?" The Doctor repeats, "Are you insane?"

She moves towards the fridge and takes a peak in it. From the corner of her eye, she sees the boy sigh in defeat and swore she heard him mutter, "You're one to talk."

"No. Wait. Hang on," Something in the freezer catches her eye, "I know what I need. I need, I need, I need..." She stretches to reach for the first two food items she set her eyes on.

"Fish fingers and custard."

The fridge door slams shut, and in a flash, the duo are seated at the kitchen table. The Doctor enjoys her weird combination of food, while the boy savours his tub of chocolate ice cream. The kitchen around them was a mess, the Doctor notices, and makes a mental note to assist the boy later on in cleaning after they have finished their snack.

With one hand on the glass bowl and another holding on to a fish finger, the Doctor dips it into the custard contentedly and takes a few bites of it, finishing it in less than twenty seconds. Then, she proceeds to lift the whole bowl and drinks the custard directly from it, leaving a moustache of the cream on her face. That was the best (and only, she realises later) meal she's had all day. The boy swallows his ice cream and lets out a small laugh.

"Funny."

The Doctor uses the back of her hand to wipe her mouth and smiles, "Am I? Good. Funny's good."

"And rude," he adds.

"Oi!" Offended, the Doctor sets the bowl down firmly, "You're one to talk."

"You did most of the talking."

Ignoring him, she asks, "What's your name? Didn't quite catch it."

"Matthias Lake."

Her mouth makes an 'o' shape, "Oh, that's a brilliant name. Matthias Lake."

"Bit of a mouthful," he remarks casually, "and some people can't pronounce the th."

The Doctor disagrees, "Nah, it sounds brilliant. Like a name in a fairy tale. Not the princesses, mind you, but a knight in shining armour."

"Ew, I hate knights."

Ignoring his comment yet again, the Doctor shoots another question while taking another mouthful of fish finger, "Where are we, by the way?"

Matthias eats a spoonful of ice cream before replying, "England."

"So what about your mum and dad,  then? Are they upstairs? Thought we'd have woken them by now," The Doctor glances at the clock on the wall. It was pretty late for a kid like him to be awake at this time.

Matthias looks down at his tub and says softly, "No mum or dad. Just an aunt."

"I don't even have an aunt."

He gasps softly and sticks out his hand, "Congrats. Lucky you."

The Doctor amusingly stands up and shakes his hand, doing a quick bow before sitting down again. Matthias flicks his hand to get rid of the custard on it.

"I know," she says, "So, your aunt, where is she?"

"Out and about."

"And she left you all alone?"

He places his spoon down on the table, "I'm not scared."

"Course, you're not," She says, "Brave little Matthias."

Not fond of the title, Matthias talks back, "I'm not little."

Swallowing the remaining food in her mouth, the Doctor says, "Sure you are, short squirt the height of my waist. But you're good. You're not scared of anything. Box falls out of the sky, woman falls out of a box, woman eats fish custard, and look at you, just sitting there, chilling with ice cream. So you know what I think?"

"That I'm not normal?"

The Doctor blinks. Great, he's passed on the blinking to her.

"I didn't say that."

Matthias swallows a spoonful of ice cream, "You thought it. Most people do."

She raised a brow, "I'm not most people."

"So what do you think, then?" He replies, averting her gaze. The Doctor stands up and bends over the table such that her mouth is just next to his ear. She whispers, not even the ant on the table can hear her.

"That's one hell of a crack in your room."