Send “Shh” to cuddle my muse after a bad day.
“You know something … ”
The Master turns to face the Doctor, deflated and weary; he looks every bit his age, which, with his round and vivacious features, is exceptionally rare. He looks flaccid and gray, and there are bags under his eyes.
“When I die, nobody is going to miss me but you.”
It’s the first time since their childhood that he’s even admitted to himself he’s mortal.
“But if you die first, there’ll be an armada of mourners. And I won’t want
to share you, but of course I will. What’ve I done, Thete?”
He steals the Doctor away by the pinstriped lapels, and drags him down onto the sofa, burying his face in his chest, wrapping his legs around his waist and his arms around his neck, as close to carbon-bonded as he can get.
Icarus 