"I know what you're capable of. I know what I'm capable of. But there's still a difference, isn't there?" The Doctor watched the Master, fairly sure that he could see the fear in his eyes. He knew better than to comment on it out loud, the Master had to be aware. "You've been driven to this point."

Not all him. Those drums, that mad delusion inside him. He wished he could believe they came from outside, but they certainly felt off. Changed him from who the Doctor thought he could be and it had only gotten worse over the years. He shook his head and leaned down to pick up the bucket of ice cream, placing it back on the table. His tone and expression changed, softened, he tried to catch his eyes again. "We can try, don't you think? It's better than giving up and dying. I can't let that happen."

He got up and rubbed the back of his head, combing his fingers through his hair in frustration and finally stepping in front of Jack. "This can't be much fun for you. He's right, you know, in some things. Me being a sentimental fool, for example."