"Blood, violence, battle," the Master says each word as though he relishes them above any other; he gives each their own mental pedestal to feed his mental torrent. A slow grin curves across his face, his head tilting back, and he looks so at ease with the situation. Yes, the Doctor will not ever hold any advantage over the Master for long, because the Master himself is far too unpredictable.

He spreads his arms loosely, the grin never faltering. He continues, voice low. "Hatred. Chaos. Keep it coming, Doctor."

Despite how loose the Master may appear, he will be quick to react when the Doctor moves for him again.