“Oh will you.” 

The Master feigns astonishment, but draws close to the Doctor, leaning down, peering down at she who is at last shorter.  

      “I don’t doubt you could disarm a Dalek Fleet with your bare teeth and, maybe, a box of toothpicks and a jar of olives, or some other utterly incomprehensible, implausible combination of ingredients, but you don’t get to do that this time.”  

He gathers her closer, tugging her near by the suspender straps.

     “The pleasure of protection gets to be mine.  I get to be the beast who paces in circles around you, so you can remain true to your quest for hope and innocence.”