When he was strong, he destroyed. And he was capable. He never needed an excuse to hit the metaphorical button before and he certainly didn't need it now. No, what he needed above all else was help. He knew how to help himself but he knew that there would be deaths. Knew that he would end up killing. Not that it bothered him. But perhaps it bothered a tiny part of him? The part that stood up against Rassilon. This time, he wanted to do things the Doctors way. If only he could get him to listen. It worked before, it would work again and if it didn't? The TARDIS and it's people would pay the price.
It was funny in a way. The Doctor finally got what he wanted. To keep the Master on the TARDIS, locked away. Just not like this.
She seemed so calm. Even when he shouted at her, even when he lost his temper and all that was left were claws, grasping what few strands had bound themselves to him. His sanity or what was left of it. "The Doctor never forgave himself" he replied, his expression, sombre. "He forgave me. All so I would live and I denied him that once. Now he denies me life. He hides, pretending to be working towards saving everyone and where has it got him? Where has it got us? We're still here, trapped" His eyes never left her, not even for a moment. Those strangely shaped, dark eyes, questioning and pleading. "I will not become a coward.... I will get what is rightfully mine, whether you choose to stand here by me or run...."