The Master looks up from his cocktail with a set expression of fond exasperation. His expectations are not disappointed.
“Darling … .”
“No.”
Theta raises a brow at this.
“What?” She is genuinely confused over this. “It’s good…. Norwegian.”
“Love, I’m not arguing about the Scandinavian flavor, but there’ve been dirty human-feet all over it, and what’s more, earth-soil’s got Clostridium spores. D’you want your limbs to lock up and … to puke until you see colors beyond the electromagnetic spectrum? I’ll abstain, thanks.”
companions: hey uh… mr. the master? how come the doctor lets u hang around even though ur evil and have tried to take over the universe multiple times??
the master, sipping his morning coffee with his feet on the tardis controls:
Icarus 