The Master couldn't help sucking in a sharp breath as those talons pierced him-- not one for delicacy, this Sobek. If it had happened to anyone else he might have been once again impressed, amused even. But as the shirt came off, ripping just a bit of the Master with it, he felt nothing but pain, and then irritation at the thought of yet another suit to replace.

And, though he was loathe to admit it even to himself, the tiniest pang of fear.

Blood dripped slowly onto the floor.

"I told you," he hissed between gritted teeth. "They mean nothing to me."

As he spoke the Master reached out telepathically through the skin-to-skin contact, more surreptitious than brutal, poking around the edges. He wanted to see what this thing was really made of.