“Dooooctorrrrrr.” The Master softly wails this, sitting in a pile of his own dissected mechanical devices, his own outlandish inventions, bored, grease on the tip of his nose, and in desperate need of a wifely snuggle. “Nobody loovs me anymore.”
The Doctor watches him from the doorway, a faint smirk on her lips, but then her expression pulls into one of abject horror and utmost concern.
“Koschei!” she cries as she falls onto her knees at his side, cupping his face in her hands and peppering his boyish cheeks with kisses, her tone and cadence like a dramatic reading of Shakespeare.
“Nobody loovs you?! What tragedy, what absolute HORROR! I am here, my brave soul, my valiant Kookaburra. I’m here! If you allow it, I’ll drown you in a love that could fill a thousand oceans! I’ll love you with every fiber of my being! Just say yes, Koschei! Say yes before you PERISH from LACK of LOVE!”
“How CLOSE a CALL this has been! Why, I nearly felt Death’s cold grasp upon me, until your little hands thawed my cheeks!”
The Master, achieving Vaudeville surely as his wife, seizes the Doctor’s wrists as her fingers clasp his face. He kisses her palms, each one, and hums contentedly.
Her kisses wrinkle his nose, taming his ferocity, flushing his round face.
“YES, then, mine Hearts! A THOUSAND times yes, for each ocean that your love fills!”
Icarus 