The Master chases, the Doctor runs. That's how it has always been, that's how it will always end.
Deep inside his hearts the Master knows it.
It is one reason why the death of his human gnaws so much on him. With her it was the other way around.
But...
A/N: I'm really not sure if it's that interesting to read, but I'm having fun putting the Master's perspective into this scenario. Bear with me, we'll return to the TARDIS soon ;P
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"Alright, I might be the tiniest bit impressed." The Master tipped his head to the side, taking in the environment outside. "How did you get him to land here and what in the universe have you told him that he's not running around out there this second?"
"Oh, you know. Shopping." The Master raised a brow and Donna gave a nonchalant shrug. "Told him I wanted to see the era's fashion live and in action and see if I can get my hands on something handmade. TARDIS makes good stuff, I have to leave her that, but 's not the same. Speaking of, what ya think?"
"About what?" It was hard to keep his mind focused on whatever that woman was blabbering about. How could anyone talk so much?
"The dress, idiot." She smoothed her hand over a sleeveless whatever. It was brown or dark grey and adorned with fine floral patterns. Not much better than a decorated potato sack.
The Master wrinkled his nose. "Not what I would wear."
"Why, of course not. It would look rather ridiculous on you."
"Hey, I look great in dresses!" he protested. "Given they have style. And we'll..." he added, contemplating his current looks, "maybe not in that body. Most of those aren't cut for a good fit in a... huh? Did you break now?"
Somehow what he had said had actually silenced Donna. She stood there, with her mouth formed into a silent 'o' and her mind seemed to be busy processing something until the process was done with an almost audible pling.
"You... wearing dresses."
"Not now, obviously. I enjoy the fashion they have for my current body type way too much. But I used to, sure. They won't fit you though, or else I would have given you something that is... well, that's not whatever you're wearing here."
"Well... okay then. Whatever. You do you." Donna shrugged and seemed to get herself out of her stupor. "I'm looking good, though! You just have bad taste."
"If you say so." He wasn't going to argue any further. And he definitely had style. This body looked quite dashing in the almost all black suit. Only his dress shirt under the waist coat was blood red.
During their bickering they had finally managed to walk the few hundred steps towards the mansion on the hill. Their destination. According to history, Agatha Christie herself was supposed to be present here by this time. Given the Doctor hadn't messed up the coordinates again. And really, they stumbled right into a bunch of rich snobs who seemed to be preparing to do rich-snob-stuff.
The Master wrinkled his nose at the sight of those people, all thinking they were something special only because they had been born into high status. Or had stolen it.
