"Actually, yeah, I do. I think we could. We have. We do. How many times could you have killed me, and you didn't?" His eyes dart around the Plass. "I'm not. It's not a front. I don't want to get rid of you, don't you understand that by now?" He sighs, stepping away from the newsstand again to follow the Master. "Wait! Don't go! What are you going to do, where are you going? Face of the crazy ex-Prime Minister, just waltzing about Cardiff?"