Taking his hand, Clara steps off onto solid but ragged ground. She's been around long enough now that she knows to agree with a nod. There could be anything in there waiting, and if there is a being inside, she'll bet they're probably Not Alive.

"I won't go far. Just enough to check the immediate coast is clear." She's learned and made progress with her sword, but she wouldn't promise the ability to fight off anything with it yet, not on her own. "Right, give me a literal minute before you get worried and charge up after me." She's gotten used to specifying the exact time she means. Otherwise, the Doctor's idea of any given amount of time seems to vary wildly.

Since the desert, she's gotten good at climbing, too, and she's able to shimmy up the rope in a way that'd make her previous phys ed teachers proud. Once she's up, she tests the floor carefully before standing up to her full height, disappearing from view. As soon as she's on the ground she feels uneasy, as if the air is heavier, but she soldiers on and counts in her head, making sure she's keeping to her own clock. The floor makes sounds of protest beneath her, as if it's angry to be walked upon.

Fifty-nine seconds later, her head pops over the wall and she looks down at him. Instead of shouting, she gives two thumbs up. So far so good.