The Master was spending far too much time doing what he could to annoy Martha, and not enough time trying to find somewhere to stay. On his way to look around where he had landed, and hopefully find some place liveable, he stopped. It was there, in his head. Not as strong as it should be, but a voice. Pleading. He smirked when he realised who.
Romana can't answer your pleas at the moment, but if you leave a name I'll be sure to let her know.