"I hate you," he says with such venom. He wonders if the Doctor had a plan. If he had a way to resurrect. If this was all just some terrible laugh (the Master doesn't acknowledge that he did the exact same thing). "If you think..." he trails off, and slowly adjusts his grip, coming to a decision. If the Doctor is going to give up like this and stop playing before the Master has his real fun in the city, the Master isn't about to let him.

His hands slide up to cradle alongside the Doctor's head and he forces his way into the Doctor's mind, intent on one thing and one thing only: to make the Doctor's body put itself into a healing trance.