Suddenly, to the Master it seems as if by way of the –Doctor’s- sudden weariness, the old gleam breaks through the filth, for a moment.
The real Doctor’s watery gaze pleads with him from once empty eyes.
The sweaty eyebrows begin their dance- but always the eyes, they sing fountains.
“And I’m through! Finally. Hello, Koschei,”the dying light seems to say, “… you need to distract him like this until he breaks ranks and reaches the Cloud- it’s there I’ll make the switch... and would you please stop –him- glaring at my wife’s tracts of land? It’s really quite disturb-”
Then the Flesh’s finger crawls up, cutting off the Doctor and hiding a soft shush noise with a bit of a waggle.
Most of their hopes gone then, in an instant. Damn. Has the Valeyard discovered the Doctor’s meddling?
Along with his finger, the rest of the leering wonder returns slowly to life, with hand to dizzy rabbit head, hoping belatedly to halt the forward sway of motion which only just afforded the Master one last glimpse of a sea-eyed Kusabi made of glorified almond paste before the onslaught of insufferable boredom he knows is sure to follow in the Valeyard’s spiritually small footsteps.