The Master takes professional pride in what he does, and revels in success and achievement. But with each regeneration, with each clawing survival, the madness within becomes more and more obvious.

"No voice? Cat have your tongue?" He holds a hand up to his ear, as if expecting an answer.

"Necessity is such an...inelegant thing, isn't it?" he continues. "When we must act to achieve an end. Now, all that separates us is a desire to be active in it. You could impose your will on creation."

Because this is the mirror image, the black queen on the chessboard to the doctor's white. Rather than return to the friendship of old, forge a new one. A pact written in blood and will and fire.