"Just..." The Master reached out, wrapping his hand around Jack's, holding on. "Don't go." He hated the pleading note in his voice, but he reasoned to himself that it was Jack, and Jack - no matter that it wasn't his Jack - wouldn't use that against him.
"He stays. He doesn't let me do something stupid when I'm too far gone to control what I'm doing. He... just doesn't run."
Unlike the Doctor. And unlike everyone else, he didn't expect anything of the Master. Didn't expect him to be anything more or less than what he was in the moment. Accepted. The Master still didn't know what to do with that, after a century.