The Master tried hard not to glare at the Rani at her comment on the love she gave him. He'd rather people didn't think he could be soft at times. After all, with the drums occasionally getting loud, as they were now, he would be far from pleasant. But it was true. Somehow her presence calmed him down. He kept his hands buried deep in his pockets, his eyes trained on the Doctor, almost daring him to try anything. With the offer of a drink, the Master remembered his own brandy, and pulled one hand from his pocket, lifting the glass, bringing it slowly to his own mouth. He would not be brought into conversation easily.