Aug 21, 2009 07:17
It's exciting, this rush of euphoria and the anxiety of patience. His veins are already pumping with adrenaline and when the Doctor steps out, wearing that poor, pathetic frown (oh, what wonderful things must have happened to make him look like that), the Master feels it in his bones, in his drums, in every fiber of his Timelord being. He wonders of the Doctor can sense him there, but he doesn't give him the chance.
His loud-mouthed companion envelops him into a hug (how touching, he thinks in disgust) and he steps out, lifting his screwdriver with a self-assured flick of the wrist and Donna Noble goes limp in the Doctor's arms.
[type] personal sl,
[with] possiblygowrong