“HAL-lo, WIFE,” the Master booms, “and HAL-lo, BABY!”
He kisses each forehead, loudly and appreciatively. And then, in answer to the Doctor’s question, he holds up a forefinger, and lofts an eyebrow.
“Watch this.”
He lifts a small remote control, no bigger than one of the TARDIS’s custard creams. He punches the red and green striped button at the center.
The entire library illumines with a lights display of every Christmas hue, including the shapes of Santa, trees, snowmen, reindeer, stars and snowflakes, to Trans-Siberian Orchestra music.
Koschei puffs up with endearing pride.
“For you, my girls! Ho ho, and a third, very merry, ho.”















