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musebysentenceHis most indulged sin has always been lust; not a lust for flesh, but an ongoing love affair with the stars.
For one moment, they're together again (pity these things never last.)
And he wonders if they'll forgive him, even if they can never forgive the Master as he has.
"Throw him out," he repeats, and it's not painful, he's just completely and totally helpless to defend himself; no Dalek, no Cyberman, no Sontaran has ever been as terrifying.
Any second now, his blood will boil and he'll die---but all he can think is about how scared he is because she isn't there.
"It was Harry's, I need to keep it to remember him by," she said, and at the time he believed her.
There's a thin line between a real smile and a false one, and the time he's spent with Madame du Pompadour has given him a finely-tuned eye to tell the difference.
And like that, she's gone, off to live her own life without you.
Actually, I'm sort of busy at the moment; did you not notice the big alien spaceship coming this way?
He's been a lot of places in the universe, but only one's ever come close to feeling like home.
It's doubtful he does anything without some sort of reason behind it; even hating you has its reason.
.
