So what if it had been one of the best sandwiches he had ever tasted? The Master was not about to start calling like a dog for another one. No, instead he would wait for the Doctor to return. Pity, he had neglected to bring him anything to drink, but again, he was not about to call like a dog for it.

Though, the Doctor had also neglected to lock the door on his way out.

I could get up and leave, he thought with a hint of wistfulness. He could leave the room, yes, but he was now imprisoned inside of the TARDIS and there would be no escaping. Trapped, forever, with the only other member of his race. The one man he hated more than anything. At least, that was what the Master told himself. A small part of him wanted to be with the Doctor, wanted to travel with him and see the Universe... No, he told himself quietly.

"No." This time he had to say it out loud, had to force the poisoned thoughts out of his mind. He would not want the friendship of the Doctor, he would certainly not want the compassion of the Doctor, and he would not want the attention of the Doctor. Well, really it was already too late for the last one. The Doctor was already giving him too much attention. Taking off the handcuffs, making him food, it was too much.

But still the small voice existed in the back of his head, almost covered by the drumming, but it was there. Whispering that he liked the attention he was getting from the Doctor. That he wanted to stay in the TARDIS with him, but not as a prisoner. As a friend.

"No!" He almost screamed the word, but was able to lower his voice at the last second. He did not want to Doctor coming in and investigating.

The door opened three seconds later.

Damn.

"What? What happened?" He looked genuinely concerned for the Master, who thought he could still detect that bit of pity in the Doctor's voice. In reality it wasn't there, but in the scrambled mind of the Master, it was very real.

"Nothing, Doctor." He did not make eye contact with him, instead found the spot he had starred at earlier and fixed his swampy brown eyes there again. "Go back to doing whatever it was you were busying yourself with." His voice sounded uncaring, indifferent. It took an immense amount of effort for him not to get angry and try to strangle the other man. Because oh yes, he wanted to. Badly. He wanted to kill the Doctor for making him long for the comfort of friendship.

Suddenly the Master remembered he was parched.

Finally he looked over and made eye contact with the Doctor. "Get me something to drink, will you?"

The look on the opposite man's face made the Master want to groan with agony. He had smiled widely like a child getting candy, and a giddy giggle leaked past his perfectly white teeth and as he swept out of the room without bothering to close the door. This time the Master really did point his head towards the ceiling and over dramatically groaned.

"Oh, and Doctor?" The Master called out, making himself cringe at the words.

"Yes?" The Doctor said as he popped his head through the doorway once again, that stupid smile still plastered on his face.

"Anything but tea."


The Doctor returned with two glasses in his hands. One was obviously just water, but the other was something carbonated with a light yellow twinge.

"I didn't know what you would want so I brought" He was cut off immediately as the Master stood up and took the glass filled with carbonated liquid, dumping it into his mouth without hesitation.

He then made a sound of great disgust. "Uuhc, what is this?" His facial features were contorted as he moved his tongue around in his mouth, trying to get rid of the unpleasantness he had just put there. He forced the glass he was holding back into the hand of the Doctor and took the water, though this time he smelled it to make sure it wasn't something appalling before pouring it down his throat.

The Doctor was laughing.

Of course he is, the Master thought as he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his blazer. The glass was two-thirds gone.

"Ginger Ale," The Doctor said, a smile still on his face as he took a drink of the liquid himself. "I rather like it, actually."

Suddenly the Master moved so he was standing at the foot of the bed, still facing the Doctor. His face was completely indifferent, while the other man was still holding a small smile. In one fluent motion the Master threw the glass of water, one-third full, directly at the Doctor's head. He ducked in time, but unfortunately as the glass soared above him the water had rained down and soaked his entire head. The glass shattered loudly.

The Master fell backwards on to the bed, his arms outstretched as he did so. He stared up at the celling without saying anything else. The Doctor was upset. He had thought they were getting somewhere.

You're acting like a fool, he chastised himself silently as he looked down at the carpeted floor. How could you think he was happy, even for a moment, trapped here like this? The Doctor realized that while he had laughed at the Master for hating the taste of Ginger Ale, he had actually been genuinely uncomfortable. And I had laughed, he thought, a wave of guilt sweeping over him. He felt sincerely awful.

The Doctor looked back up at the Master, who was still lying on the bed with his arms outstretched, staring at the ceiling, his face blank. The Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets and walked away, leaving the door wide open once again. He did not notice that the Master had lifted his own head to watch him walk out of the room.