Oh, he'd been noticed. There was no-one less likely not to be noticed than the Doctor in the incarnation the Master was most familiar with right now.
The Master gritted his teeth. He'd been threatened and kidnapped and mocked by some pathetic immortal with delusions of superiority just because he was bigger and stronger and could come back from the dead, not to mention he'd had to traipse all the way back into the forest and hunt around for ages to retrieve his laser screwdriver, and he'd had enough.
He peered at the Doctor, trying to determine which one it was. The red rose tucked into his lapel gave the game away, though. Had to be the one joined at the hip with his Master. Who, actually, had been wearing a white rose the last time he'd met him. He hadn't given it much thought at the time. It made him feel sick now, though.
Now he really wanted to hurt someone.
He wondered briefly if the controls for aging his own Doctor still programmed into his laser screwdriver would work on this version too. But he wanted something more violent than that, satisfying as it was.
Fuck it. If there was anyone he could hurt with impunity, surely it was the Doctor? What was the Doctor going to do? Kill him?
He strode deliberately over to the Doctor and punched him hard on the jaw.