He was home. As close to freedom as he could get. The power to control the universe at his fingertips--that was his taste of freedom. It was addictive, it always had been. Control, the one thing he could never hold on to for long.
Oh, but he itched. Chafed. Needed something to do, to combat the rushing silence in his mind, the void the drums had occupied until so recently. Preferably something terrible, violent, destructive. He hadn’t had diversion enough, in his brief struggle with his future self. Missy had capitulated too easily, the fight too quickly gone from her when her walls of ice were faced with his all-consuming fire. Disappointing on multiple levels.
But there was fresh meat knocking at the door to his--her--their TARDIS. One of her playthings, no doubt. He liked new toys. Liked breaking them, especially. Surely she wouldn’t begrudge the Master his fun, not when she knew she only had himself to blame. Ha.
“Well, hello there! I’m afraid Missy can’t come out to play--she’s rather tied up at the moment. But hey, come on in, I’ll just... fill in for her.”