In response to the…less than friendly look that Simon gave him, the Master simply smirked and raised an eyebrow. He didn’t have the intention of goading the younger man on, but some people were just…so very goad-able. Besides, it was a slow day, if he took away the chessmatch. The Master had to keep entertained somehow, or else he’d wind up killing people again.
But River’s question caught his attention once more. Eyes narrowing, the Master shook his head. “No. It came out of the fireplace.” It could have been any innocent question, but the Master did not believe in innocent questions. Nor did he believe in coincidence. Besides, the girl asked with such conviction, such smug certainty. There was more to her lithe dancer’s frame than met the eye. “Ghosts make the best government,” he replied. “Nobody can see it work.” His kind of government: One that deluded the people until he took control.
The Master concentrated as River planned her next move. The chaos in between them was pushed aside, though; the Master had more important things to worry about. He ignored the drums. It sounded so easy in theory, but the psychic percussion’s thrall was fiendishly impossible to dodge. It took all of the Master’s concentration for a full ten seconds to ignore the white noise, to reach out and touch the girl’s mind—if only for a moment.
“What’s your name? Your brother’s, as well.” Said brother's comment about mutant rabbits was again ignored. The last time he brought those into a game, it almost killed him.