He doesn't like that look the Doctor's giving the hypospray vial, or him. The Master watches him struggle pitifully against the rock, wanting to laugh but strangely unable to. He sets his mouth in a thin line, pressing his own hypospray deliberately against his neck and depressing it, staring at the Doctor the whole time with a matter-of-fact expression. Daring him to say anything else about it. The drums subside, just barely.

"You can keep the other one," he tells him curtly, before turning on his heel and limping back to his own wrecked horse.