“With all the DEVICES and GIMMICKS that have been invented, you’d think there would be something to get SONGS out of your head.”
This complaint has nothing — nothing ! — to do with the fact that the Master has thus far failed to get ATC’s All Around The World off her mind. It likewise has nothing to do with her frustration at herself for actually rather enjoying the song in question, and almost being tempted to hum it as she works.
Nothing at all.
“Funny you should say that. I remember vividly when we would have killed to have a different noise entirely out of our head.”
The Master leers at his future self, with, he hopes she’ll recognize, mostly no barbs.
“Which song is it? Oh please. Please tell me it’s something gaudily cheerful.”
“I suppose if she stops, she’ll have to share the limelight with our glory, sis. That, or she’s embarrassed to refer to her OLDEST FRIEND IN THE UNIVERSE as ‘family.’”
The Master chuckles, and it’s the sound of settling floorboards; it’s the sound of home.
“I dunno where you get such an idea, but in order to maintain my reputation for unchecked narcissism, I’ll agree.”
“Oh trust me, you’ll learn to never get bored of that narcissism. It’s really great and lovely~”
Missy smiled and played with his hair a little. “And please, don’t start questioning where I get my ideas, first because you know it and second because they come from a scary place in my mind~” she chuckled.
“Hhhhyeah, okay, granted.”
The expression on the Master’s face, as Missy touches his hair, is wistful; he can almost hear the soft siren’s hymn of her mind cloying him into false security. She is deadly and beautiful and he will always look to her with admiration and regret.
Icarus 