"I should hope so!" The Doctor's shadow moved from where he'd been half-slumped against the wall, his face tilting up to the light. "Rubbish torturers if they couldn't get that right."
He tried to fix the Master with one of those disarming smiles of his, the ones he knew would drive the man up the walls. He'd been kept alive all these months so Sobek could leech the information from him but somehow knowing the Master was out there and doing...well, he wasn't quite sure what he was doing somehow made it worse. The Doctor straightened, coughing into his arm and trying to at least look like he wasn't about to flop around like a dying fish in front of his best enemy. There was bowties and then there was dignity and at the very least he could manage sitting up like a person, right? In comparison, the Master looked like he was doing decent for effectively being a prisoner himself; he didn't look like that blond shell of himself that he remembered at any rate and he even had the nerve to look like he was having a good day, smiling at him like that!
The Doctor carefully propped himself up against the wall, using a piece of stone to (strategically) wedge himself upright so he wouldn't tip over onto his side.
"Any particular reason he hasn't had a go at you yet?" He couldn't resist asking, giving a toss of his head so he could see out of a fringe that had grown out of control the six-ish months they'd been stuck on Kalimba. It was a question the Doctor had asked himself at least once a day, when he was able to have his thoughts to himself and didn't have to try to claw onto them while Sobek did the same.
Re: Eleven and the Master
He tried to fix the Master with one of those disarming smiles of his, the ones he knew would drive the man up the walls. He'd been kept alive all these months so Sobek could leech the information from him but somehow knowing the Master was out there and doing...well, he wasn't quite sure what he was doing somehow made it worse. The Doctor straightened, coughing into his arm and trying to at least look like he wasn't about to flop around like a dying fish in front of his best enemy. There was bowties and then there was dignity and at the very least he could manage sitting up like a person, right? In comparison, the Master looked like he was doing decent for effectively being a prisoner himself; he didn't look like that blond shell of himself that he remembered at any rate and he even had the nerve to look like he was having a good day, smiling at him like that!
The Doctor carefully propped himself up against the wall, using a piece of stone to (strategically) wedge himself upright so he wouldn't tip over onto his side.
"Any particular reason he hasn't had a go at you yet?" He couldn't resist asking, giving a toss of his head so he could see out of a fringe that had grown out of control the six-ish months they'd been stuck on Kalimba. It was a question the Doctor had asked himself at least once a day, when he was able to have his thoughts to himself and didn't have to try to claw onto them while Sobek did the same.