The Doctor had discarded both his jacket and his hoodie. He stood on stage clad in boots, dark plaid trousers, and several layers of t-shirts. He was grinning like mad, breathing a little heavier from the exertion of playing, and making eyes at the crowd over the top of his sunglasses. Clara finished yet another drink, trying to hide the answering grin that suffused her face, pressing her thighs together, hard, beneath the table to try and quell some of the ache that came from watching The Doctor like this.
Finishing one song, The Doctor paused to take a drink from his own pint, "You've been a lovely audience...," he began, obviously meaning to bow off the stage. The audience cried out for one more song and, being The Doctor, he couldn't very well refuse them.