The Master moved towards her. Closer and closer. Those big, strange eyes looked up at her, his form hunched over."I want to be whole again!" he said, fixing his eyes on hers. "I want to stop needlessly consuming for the sake of staying alive. My body is weak.... I am sick, and the Doctor has not helped me"
Why would he want help from the Doctor anyway? He didn't need his help! Or did he? Did he want to admit to needing his help? Was he really so weak and helpless that he had to turn to the very man he had spent so long trying to destroy? After all they went through.... To eventually put himself in that position. Saving the Doctor of all people! The Doctor had been right after all. And eventually, he had come to believe the Master. Those drums... That noise in his head. A noise he could not live without.
The Master moved back from her and frowned at his own weakness, his own frailty. He was pathetic.