He hadn't been sure to begin with that the man he had passed on the street was talking to him, but seeing as there was no one else around, it must have been directed toward him.

"Did you ever forget any of them?" The man repeated his question.

The Doctor knew this man, he realized, but for all his strength, he could not find who he was, nor could he figure out what he was talking about. It was the sort of sensation when you meet an old friend from long ago, and you know, somewhere in the back of your mind that they meant the world to you at one point, but somewhere along the way you drifted apart and became different people and now they had become unrecognizable.

"I'm sorry, but who are you exactly?"

"You didn't answer my question, Doctor. Your friends, like the ones you travel with, did you ever forget any of them," the man said.

"Of course not. I mean, I've had many friends who've come and gone, but I never forget them. Not ever." It was a peculiar question, and he wasn't even quite sure how he knew that the Doctor traveled. Surely he must have met this man somewhere before.

"You're wrong," The Master sighed, looking away; the Doctor could see that he was hurt by his inability to remember. "You forgot me."