Bleak, vapid light poured in from the hallway and in to the almost closet-sized room, acting as a sort of wake up call to the aged and sleeping man inside. He stirred himself in to reality with creaking bones and blinked absently at the pale yellow streaming across his thinly lined blanket. A quick glance at his wrinkled hands made him realize that no, it was not in fact a horrendous dream. Furthermore, he could feel the smooth function of the skyship's engine as it held the massive craft in the air. A faint ringing assaulted his eardrums with slight annoyance, but it wasn't until a few moments later that he had realized it had a tangible source. With a discouraged sigh, his old legs swung over the edge of the bed. Bare toes brushed the cold surface of the floor and tingled. It was a long time since he had felt so physically old, and he had to admit that he hadn't missed it. Being young and vibrant was a quality he had grown to love about his body, but now that his skin sagged with gravity and his bones ached with withering, he couldn't help but to feel a little selfish.
A raw form of apathy pushed The Doctor past his chest of drawers- where there was likely a clean change of clothes for him- and lazily into the cold, stiff seat of his wheelchair. It had only been a few steps but his legs were shaking and exhausted, relieved to be sitting once more. The ringing persisted and he assumed that it would continue to do so until he had stopped it on his own, or at least emerged from his dwelling. With a haphazard grunt and push, the wheels were moving and his mobility was restored at least partially. His door was open regardless of the memory serving him that it had been shut the night before. One of The Master's cronies had undoubtedly come to check and see if he was still on board during the night, even though it was practically impossible for him to escape.
A corridor of pressing enormity reached far ahead of him. A shuddering, discouraged sigh spilled like a waterfall from his chapped lips. He pushed onward and began rolling over the crisp, shiny tile floor. The two large wheels on either side of his chair rolled with relative ease until finally he had reached a crossing, to which he spun to the left sharply and came upon the bright conference room to which he spent his last young breath only hours before. The incessant ringing appeared much louder now, and he assumed that its source came from within.
A form-fitting black dress clad in dangling pearls and red pumps sat upon the glass table with her back toward the entrance. A sharp sky-blue dress shirt, square cuff links, and black tie sat near to her in a swiveling chair with his eyes trained on her red lips and bouncy curls but his face plain enough to see from The Doctor's position. They interacted with one another as if the deafening alarm hadn't even existed, but the way their voices were raised suggested that they were aware of its presence however chose to pay more attention to one another than it. A few loud moments passed before The Master took notice of his fellow Time Lord's arrival, but the way his interested smile grew in to a malicious grin instantaneously seemed to wring those seconds of their substance and discard them quicker than they had passed. He reached a nimble finger underneath the table and presumably pressed a button, because the cacophonous blaring stopped immediately.
"Good of you to join us, Doctor!" he exclaimed in an unpleasant sing-song tone. Lucy turned her head around to face their guest, the expression on her face blank with sudden boredom. She nodded in uncaring acknowledgement, leaned toward her aberrant husband to whisper something in his ear, and slid off the table in one graceful movement. The Master simply waved a nonchalant hand at her as she departed through the rear door and got to his feet. "You're looking spry I see. Enjoy your sleep?"
The Doctor grumbled something incoherent and adjusted the position of his hands so that they were resting upon the thin material of his pinstriped bedclothes.
"How nice to hear~ Ah, but this won't ever do," a seemingly youthful prime minister purred with a discontented tongue while addressing The Doctor's lack of proper dress, "today is the first day of ruling. Is it so difficult to dress properly?"
The Master didn't need a response. A pained expression on The Doctor's face answered his question well enough, to which he growled bitterly as if it weren't his fault entirely and turned away his angled chin. For a few agonizing moments the only sound between them was the low rumble of the engine. The Master gently shut his eyes and inhaled sharply to hold his breath, looking as if he were simply listening. If there were a clock in the room apart from his heavy and muffled wristwatch, the hands would hold the heavy suspense with trembling weakness. Quick as the silence came it dissipated with his exhale and doll-like grin. "Funny, I've hardly had this regeneration and yet I still have forgotten how difficult simple tasks are with such old bones. Good thing I'm not the ancient one here," a dark brow raised in suggestion. The Doctor parted his dry lips in protest, but was hushed before he could form any words, "No. Return when you're decent. I don't care if you break a hip, grandpa. Perhaps you'll learn some respect."
The tyrannical fortitude of the demand almost made The Doctor choke. He knew his disturbed equal could be cruel better than anyone, perhaps even himself, but his request was near impossible. It was hard enough to roll his chair around and out of the room, but to change himself entirely alone in this state? He already felt winded and he hadn't even made it back to his room yet.
The Master, with arms folded in superfluous pride, cocked a brow at his departing guest and watched with genuine interest, in the same manner that people gaze upon the caged animals of their local zoo. One bold step took him closer and he picked up his pace until he was directly behind his deteriorating friend, to which he delivered a hearty shove at the back of the mobile seat and sent the panicked Doctor barreling down the hallway and out of control, straight in to the wall. Much to The Master's distaste he hadn't the reward of a verbal reaction, and those deep brown eyes were out of his line of sight. Nevertheless, the way those drooping shoulders slumped in defeat was satisfactory enough, and he chuckled ostentatiously a moment or two before turning on his heel and trotting happily away.
It felt like forever before the staling Time Lord emerged once again, and by then The Master was nearly asleep, his lids heavy with impatience and boredom. Absentminded tapping of his foot kept him in tune with reality until his ears perked at the telltale sign of rolling wheels. Hazel irises flicked toward the entrance and found The Doctor dressed in a solid blue suit, a purple necktie tucked in to the folds of his buttoned blazer. His classic Chuck Taylors were on his feet, but it was a shoddy detail that The Master could overlook. "Much better, don't you agree?~" a nonsensical Master cooed while rising to his feet, where he approached the fatigued figure and handled the service bars protruding from the back of the chair. From there the two of them wheeled to the window at the far wall. The Master leaned over the edge of the chair, hands pressing in to the leather of the back, to peer out and downward. Feeling crowded by the looming body above him, The Doctor followed suit, regardless of the figurative and literal pain it took to do so. It was hard to see much from their altitude, but a few swarms of Toclafane whizzed by and achingly reminded The Doctor of the hurtful fate of his precious earth.
"One third. Gone!" The Master boasted in a chipper voice, "Doesn't it feel so good to know that such a large portion of such an awful race is just gone?"
"You're a monster."
"Hm~" a laugh escaped curled lips, "it could be yours too, you know. The earth. How would that make you feel, to own your precious planet? To reign as the leader of your favorite people? It wouldn't take but a few words. Imagine that. A few words and it could all be yours. Well, almost all yours. Sort of like joint custody. Wouldn't you like that?"
"That's not the point. I don't want to rule them, Kosch-"
"Stop it," he snarled viciously, lips dripping with venom while he swung round to face his guest eye-to-eye, "use the name I chose. Use it to remind you who's in charge here. You think just because we were friends back in the academy that you can be as formal as you please with me? You're sadly mistaken, Doctor. I chose this name for a reason. Use it."
If stares could burn, the ship would be ablaze in an instant. Burning circles of brown quaked with irritation. Beaked lips pressed to form a thin, maddened line. "Yes, Master."
"Ah, much better, don't you think? It rolls off the tongue marvelously. Say it again."
"What are they, really? The Toclafane?" a trembling voice asked, almost out of breath.
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
"Master."