In any case, River Song’s fingers are playing across the usurper’s shoulders now, rolling out imagined kinks.
Oh if she only knew whose land rover she was steering.
The Master fights with himself at the sight, willing his body not to scream like a little girl in sheer frustration at this upstart clone of a Time Lord who thinks he bloody owns the place, walking around in his friend’s Flesh form as if anybody ever cared about the shoes he’s pretending to but him.
“I got a signal from the Citadel, finally,” says River, as Borusa’s big yellow crystal head floats over, on marble shoulders covered now by River’s jacket.
“And I see that you finally got the hang of that turn, Borusa! Good job on, even if you do keep having trouble with the Laneet’s vibrational speech synthesizer-much more problem and it might be better just to telepath it, and avoid the Flesh’s comm altogether. Anyway, according to my husband, the Doctor, I mean the trail, will get a fair bit rocky from here on in.” She turns to the Valeyard in his Doctor suit, he pretending sleep at her feet while his darkening green eyes gaze brightly on the Master’s carefully crafted deer in headlights expression.
Wait. The Master thinks on the woman’s gaffe, considering. Did she just admit she suspected something? But, before he can think on it further…
“You don’t do worried liar lying about lying well, Koschei,”the Valeyard’s traitor eyes call out merrily, dancing sideways after River’s gaffe like a stiletto in the dark, with that vicious twinkle of ice behind tissue paper, “…although I have to say that -bothered- suits you.”