Oh yes, he remembered the Master's idea of "together", far, far more than he would've liked.
Not something he could forget, to put it lightly. Seeing the TARDIS in that state was definitely one of those bad day things: proof that when the Doctor didn't think the Master could stoop any lower, he had to go above and beyond to prove him wrong. The Doctor's eyes narrowed slightly, trying not to let himself get baited. It was harder than it should've been.
He watched the bits and bobs and broken pieces of Whatsit disappear into the Master's pocket. Obviously the Master thought he could repair his laser screwdriver and he supposed dying and then un-dying must've changed the man's understanding of unrepairable. Either way, the Doctor thought the screwdriver was junk and if he wanted to tinker around with it, for all the good it would do, then he supposed it was better that than, say, ship-wide domination attempts.
"I don't pretend to know what it is you want these days. Which leads us right back to what you could possibly expect if you go about things like you used to," the Doctor said with an almost tired sigh.
He liked to think he was actually rather spry for his age. Seeing the Master and having these same arguments, the same struggle for the upper hand even over things like vases and favorite desks, made him feel that age creeping on him all over again. Sometimes he wondered about that -- if the Master felt the same, that was.
If he did, he didn't seem to show it, the Doctor studying the Master's face from across the desk.
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Not something he could forget, to put it lightly. Seeing the TARDIS in that state was definitely one of those bad day things: proof that when the Doctor didn't think the Master could stoop any lower, he had to go above and beyond to prove him wrong. The Doctor's eyes narrowed slightly, trying not to let himself get baited. It was harder than it should've been.
He watched the bits and bobs and broken pieces of Whatsit disappear into the Master's pocket. Obviously the Master thought he could repair his laser screwdriver and he supposed dying and then un-dying must've changed the man's understanding of unrepairable. Either way, the Doctor thought the screwdriver was junk and if he wanted to tinker around with it, for all the good it would do, then he supposed it was better that than, say, ship-wide domination attempts.
"I don't pretend to know what it is you want these days. Which leads us right back to what you could possibly expect if you go about things like you used to," the Doctor said with an almost tired sigh.
He liked to think he was actually rather spry for his age. Seeing the Master and having these same arguments, the same struggle for the upper hand even over things like vases and favorite desks, made him feel that age creeping on him all over again. Sometimes he wondered about that -- if the Master felt the same, that was.
If he did, he didn't seem to show it, the Doctor studying the Master's face from across the desk.