"It was quiet, so wonderfully, delightfully quiet." The Master dropped the remains of the pencil on the table, looking down a moment, a half-smile on his face. "Nothing to distract me, just me and my thoughts, my plans."
He looked up at the Doctor again. "It was the Doctor's arrival to Earth, his exile, that brought them back. The longer he stayed, the more discordant they got. He's left. They're quieter now, easier to ignore. I want the silence back."
He drew in a quiet breath, poking at the remains of the pencil. "Jack's mine. Only constant anymore. He shouldn't exist, shouldn't feel like home, but he does. I don't know why he cares, why he stays." He waved one hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, he loves me, but... I couldn't even see that, when the drums were at their loudest. All I could see was something that shouldn't exist, shouldn't be, and tried to destroy it. Destroy him. Killed him so many times."