i would still lay down my life for you ; [ taptaptaptap ]

[kinda_cheeky]

... your song is ending .. something is coming ... he will knock four times ...The Doctor is going to die. But that has always been a certainty; at some point in time, of course he will die. The man he is now will gradually cease to exist; he'll take all the knowledge he contains now and pour it into another shell, another form, and the Doctor

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[taptaptaptap]

Left to his own devices, the Master did very little in the single room the TARDIS seems determined to allow him access to. Huddling up in the corner, surrounding himself with a psychic shield, did (not surprisingly) little to help him with his struggle to contain the now intense and insistent drumming. In the end, he seems to have conducted himself up, made a valiant effort of washing his scruffy face in the bathroom sink, leaving the water running and a dirty towel on the floor as he stumbled into the bedroom and collapsed across the bed.

Which is exactly where the Doctor will find him, blissfully unconscious -- at long last -- and finally obtaining a welcome reprieve from the drums.

[kinda_cheeky]

The fact that the Master looks as if he might have actually found some sort of peace leaves the Doctor reluctant to disturb his friend. Instead, he moves around the quarters and shuts off the water, picks up the towel, and then goes into the bedroom. The Doctor opens up the wardrobe and finds a suit - black and tailored - that should satisfy the Master's taste, then retrieves a shirt, tie, socks, and shoes, and sets them all out. From there, he heads back to the en suite and turns on the taps to fill the tub with water, thinking that a bath might be more well-suited to Koschei's needs at the moment than a shower.

Once everything is fully prepared, the bath filled and the water a perfect temperature for Gallifreyan biology, scented with pleasant oils, the Doctor goes back into the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed. He reaches out and places a hand against Koschei's forehead, trying for something that might be physically soothing where the Doctor apparently is not emotionally.

[taptaptaptap]

At first blush, the only resounding answer the Doctor will find is the drumming. Intense, a clear and heavy tempo most assuredly increased since the last time the Doctor shared the overwhelming noise with the Master. Beneath it all, however, is the Master's telepathic presence, even beneath his blotted out awareness. Feeling the Doctor intruding on the field of his mind, the Master stirs beneath the thrum, questioning in feeling rather than formulated words.

[kinda_cheeky]

With the sound of the drums being an overwhelming four-beat rhythm in the Master's head, the Doctor rightfully feels that impressions more than words might be more useful in communicating with the Master at the moment. He closes his eyes and casts out, trying to dampen the bled-in sound of the dreams into his own head, and impresses upon the Master the idea of a bath. The Doctor promotes the idea with a sense of cleanliness and a chance for the Master to put himself together again; given the Master's tendency to be concerned with dignity, this should be quite appealing to him, shouldn't it?