While the Doctor fusses over the chess set, obviously flustered, the Master sits as still as possible. At the moment, he's too exhausted to really press the issue and far more concerned with tamping down futilely against the drums raging through his head. The bit of awkward silence is nice, in some ways. Infuriating in others; he wants the Doctor to sink to his level, petulant as it is.

"See anything?" he repeats blearily, with a small smirk. "My lives flashing before my eyes, all the regrets of days past, that sort of thing?"