Jack had dealt with whiny prisoners before, and instead of replying to him, he just yanked his wrists up his back and kicked him in the heels to get him walking forward. "You can apologise to me later once we've got the boy tucked in," he said flatly. His patience was paper thin by now, held together only by the Doctor's presence. He was certain that had he been left to take care of the Master by himself, that he'd have removed at least three or four of his teeth by now.
"Kick me one more time and I'll pull all your skin off. And you know I can do it too, you've seen first hand," the Master snarled angrily as he stumbled along, fighting the whole time because he refused to give in and willingly be a prisoner. He was a Time Lord, they weren't locked away in rooms, they were supposed to be out in the universe. He shouldn't even be punished for killing those apes, he had the right to! They weren't worth anything more alive than dead.
"And don't call me a boy," the Master snapped, trying once more in vain to turn around. He skidded his feet to a halt the best he could, trying to use his shoulder to force Jack back. Maybe he could still convince the Doctor not to do this? He couldn't seriously want to lock him away! That wasn't fair. "Doctor, you can't be serious. This is insane! I'm not your prisoner, you're not a jailer either. No one really died so what does it matter? The year didn't count!"
"I'm not locking you up as punishment. You're right, I'm not a jailer. But I can't trust you not to hurt someone again, so I'll have to keep you from it." The Doctor smiled, if it could be called that. It certainly didn't reach his eyes. "I hope I can trust you enough to at least let you roam about the TARDIS freely soon."
It was true, actually, as idealistic and naive as it sounded. The way his hearts broke when the Master had been dead in his arms... He never wanted to feel like that again. The Doctor stopped next to a door and opened it for the Master and Jack, catching Jack's eyes. He didn't say anything, but the 'we can talk later' was definitely there. Then he turned to actually look into the room and his eyes widened, he quickly shut the door again. It had been about the size of a broom closet with no furniture and absolute darkness.
"Come on, old girl. Don't be petty." He waited a few moments, then opened the door again, this time peering in first. "Right, alright. There we go then."
This time the room was considerably bigger and there was a bed, bookshelves and even a desk and chair, as well as a door leading somewhere, presumably a bathroom.
Once the room was finished assembling itself, Jack peered over and into it. It was actually fairly nice. Nicer than anything he'd have given his prisoners in Cardiff, anyway. Especially the homicidal ones. He didn't even need the order to be given before Jack was untying the knots he'd done in the Master's bindings and shoving him toward the room. No reason to be gentle. After all, he wasn't exactly a "guest". Even the TARDIS thought so. That thought actually made him smile a little.
"You've practically got your own little flat here. Not bad." he said. Jack wasn't happy that the Master had been given so much when he hardly thought he deserved even the bed to sleep on.
The Master stumbled into the room, seething with anger and wishing he could escape and just go. He didn't want to be in this room, he didn't want to hear the Doctor talk down to him and he certainly didn't want to look at that freak any more. The lamp sitting on the soon met an unfortunate and ugly end when the Master threw it in the Doctor direction, unfortunately missing him entirely and just landing in the hallway, dented and half broken.
"I won't stay in here, I'm not your prisoner," the Master glared at the room, annoyed he'd missed the Doctor with his lamp. It didn't even match the décor of the room! "You're going to have to let me out eventually, I'm not just going to stay here."
The Doctor had held still when the lamp was thrown, watching the Master have his tantrum in silence. He parted his lips to say something, but finally he just shook his head and, without another word, shut the door. He used his screwdriver to lock it before turning and gathering up the lamp, considering it and then heading back down the hallway.
"Broken. But I think I can fix it." He was talking about the lamp. Mostly.
Jack frowned at the lamp, folding his arms and shaking his head. "I told you this was a bad idea," he said with a sullen voice. "I just hope you don't end up regretting it."
Jack reached out and pat the Doctor on the shoulder before turning to walk toward his room to sort out his thoughts. What a disaster.
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"And don't call me a boy," the Master snapped, trying once more in vain to turn around. He skidded his feet to a halt the best he could, trying to use his shoulder to force Jack back. Maybe he could still convince the Doctor not to do this? He couldn't seriously want to lock him away! That wasn't fair. "Doctor, you can't be serious. This is insane! I'm not your prisoner, you're not a jailer either. No one really died so what does it matter? The year didn't count!"
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It was true, actually, as idealistic and naive as it sounded. The way his hearts broke when the Master had been dead in his arms... He never wanted to feel like that again. The Doctor stopped next to a door and opened it for the Master and Jack, catching Jack's eyes. He didn't say anything, but the 'we can talk later' was definitely there. Then he turned to actually look into the room and his eyes widened, he quickly shut the door again. It had been about the size of a broom closet with no furniture and absolute darkness.
"Come on, old girl. Don't be petty." He waited a few moments, then opened the door again, this time peering in first. "Right, alright. There we go then."
This time the room was considerably bigger and there was a bed, bookshelves and even a desk and chair, as well as a door leading somewhere, presumably a bathroom.
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"You've practically got your own little flat here. Not bad." he said. Jack wasn't happy that the Master had been given so much when he hardly thought he deserved even the bed to sleep on.
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"I won't stay in here, I'm not your prisoner," the Master glared at the room, annoyed he'd missed the Doctor with his lamp. It didn't even match the décor of the room! "You're going to have to let me out eventually, I'm not just going to stay here."
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"Broken. But I think I can fix it." He was talking about the lamp. Mostly.
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Jack reached out and pat the Doctor on the shoulder before turning to walk toward his room to sort out his thoughts. What a disaster.