The voice on the other end sobers him immediately, and The Doctor curses himself for answering so easily. "Master," his voice is wide awake now, and sharp. "It's been a while."
"Did you miss me?" the voice laughs. He's sure it sounds different from last time. Probably put through a computer synthesizer.
"I thought you were dead," the surprise in the Doctor's voice is feigned; doing what he can to paint himself with a different brush. "It's been ages and the papers said there was a fire in one of your warehouses. Was that another trick?"
"No," the voice says, more amused than anything, "But then again, there's no way they'd know that I set the fire. Well, not me personally. I brought in a plumber. I needed to plug a few leaks." There's a pause while they each wait for the other's move, extended when The Doctor refuses to go first. "There is a reason I called, you know. If I wanted idle chit-chat, I would have called Captain Harkness. Yes, I know you work for him. I also know you just accepted another job. Bit eager for work for someone about to retire."
"Favor for an old friend." The Master must be desperate; tailing him is tough. Why would he even bother to find out his plans if otherwise? "I'm done with this life. It's time to stop running."
"So I heard." Suddenly, his tone is all business. Not even the modulator could hide that. "Look. I want the girl just as much as he does. He'll want to bring her in to arrest. I'd prefer her company for more… Personal reasons. It would really be a shame, but understandable, if she were to, say, get into the wrong cab. And I'll give double your current salary."
His words send a shiver down The Doctor's spine. Whatever this girl had done to put a bee in The Master's bonnet, it was enough to get a personal request. He didn't often feel pity for someone, especially not a target, but this girl was in some serious trouble. "That must be pocket change for you. Less than. Come on, you can do better than that," His voice is crisp, sharp for business, but only because it's part of the game. He might be a hit man, but The Master goes far too far for his standards.
"Oh, getting greedy, are we?" The Master's laugh was sharp and cold, almost humorless and more than enough to send more chills his way. "I remember when you first started out, I could get you into a much harder job for double the cost of arms and munitions. But fine. How about fifteen times your current estimate? Does that make the pot sweet enough, Doctor?"
That shocked him. He knew The Master was big—or at least big headed—but to throw out that high a cost so casually? And so quickly? That's bad. "Yeah, like you're really gonna uphold that. Even if it is chump change, that's just begging for the authorities to come take a look at me. Fat chance." He probably wouldn't accept if the scumbag offered him the world. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that: playing for both sides had perks, and turning down The Master didn't usually end well. Any really big offer and he'd be out of excuses to say no.
Later that day he's hating himself.
He actually kept the woman's phone number. And now he's seriously considering looking at it. Or using it.
"What have you gotten yourself into, this time?" The Doctor asks himself. He twirls the new little bottle in his hand, forehead wrinkling as he glares at the small paper on the bed.
It takes him three hours of reminding himself of his rules and why they were in place, but he finally tucks it into one of his pockets and turns his attentions elsewhere. He wasn't going to ruin his identity any more than he had, but he couldn't bring himself to throw away the paper.
"Only three more days," He reminds himself, "Three more days until I should head back."
"… Maybe I should make it two."