"Yours." Jack shrugged. "He did mention there was at least one psychopathic version of him wearing his face, but I've yet to meet him." He took a sip of the wine he'd gotten to go with his snacks, trying to soothe his nerves. "I'm not too worried about him - I know how to handle the Master when he's in a bad phase."
No, it wasn't the Master that had him wound like a spring ready to snap if a bit more pressure was applied. And he... wasn't sure how to tell the Doctor it was the Doctor he didn't trust, couldn't trust. Maybe he could trust this Doctor, but it didn't make it any easier to tell him he didn't trust any of the others he'd seen come in.