The Doctor spits out a mouthful of blood. He's not looking particularly happy with his current status. His hand that holds the rapier is bruised from throwing punches that have hit and those that have missed.

He used to fight with rules and with some vestige of honor.

That was before, of course. He's learned that being victorious feels good.

"Really?" he calls back. "Cause I don't think you can!"

He throws a few thrusts in the Master's direction, each a little off in their precision due to the anger and force he puts behind them.