The 12th Doctor marches with purpose into the wardrobe of the TARDIS. He shows no emotion as he hastily whips his bow tie off for the last time, but stops a moment after throwing it to the ground. He turns, crouches and picks up the strip of material lovingly. He likes that bow-tie, and though it no longer suits him, it holds fond memories. He smiles and sets it aside carefully, because, after all, bow ties are still cool.
Then he turns his attention to the racks of clothes in front of him. The room has changed since his last visit but he still knows where everything is. Pushing aside coats and trousers and even dresses, he spots it. Hanging there in all its glory, the material flowing and dark. He smiles and reaches out a hand, lifting it from its peg. He runs a hand over the silky material before fastening it around his neck. This is it. Perfect. His cape.
Turning from the wardrobe, he marches out and down a corridor or two, finally arriving in the console room to see it is empty. He takes this opportunity and twirls, the material of the cape spinning around him and billowing out. He stops, straightens it as he did his bow tie, and opens the doors of the TARDIS to see Clara.
She looks up and raises her eyebrows. A cape? Is he serious? She stifles a laugh as he smiles at her proudly and takes a step out. Hands on hips he asks, 'what do you think?'. She nods unconvinvingly, her laughter getting the better of her. But he doesn't care. He closes the TARDIS doors behind him and begins to walk forward, but something stops him. He frowns and turns, seeing his cape caught in the doors. He pulls but it doesn't help, so he unfastens it from his neck and lets it fall to the floor. Frowning, he turns back to Clara who is now in hysterics.
"Maybe not," he says.