He adds, with one finger skyward and two guards clinging lest he make a run for it, "...and let's not forget a most unfashionable late-coming to one's senses. But as for me, I'm dying for a jelly baby."
Then Rassilon, the father of Time Lord Society, sits down in the middle of the cold floor and twiddles his thumbs.
He further adds, the pools of his eyes draining grateful tears like pus over the drapes of his white toothy grin, "That's all right; I know you haven't any. But there is an urgent business of the Doctor's that needs personal attendance before I go. Might I have a messenger and another bag of those fried bats? I suspect this is going to keep me from his counsel for a time, and though I am happy that he is alive to witness this chain of events, I will miss him, in the interim, while he recovers. You see, he’s within a secret chamber somewhere below, in a coma..."