The Master glanced at Romana, and sneered. "And you're not really going to shoot me, Madame President. You brought me back to fight your war, can't destroy the weapon you made, only use it."
He narrowed his eyes as the Doctor stepped towards him, stepping sideways and back to put a rack of clothes near him. "The hell I'm not having it, Doctor. You'll never wear it again, you never do wear the same style twice. You have no use for it, and you made me what I am, you and Jack and dear Madame President, so you can bloody well clothe me as fits what I am."