“H-hey, hot lips!” he gasps, breathless as another contraction builds behind his spine, spilling him into temporary alertness again, long enough to snidely position his tongue and lips just so, “... isn’t this our second honeymoon?”
Rassilon chuckles softly, smiling as he steps in through the TARDIS doors. “Well, my most favoured chess partner...it seems things have turned out well to plan. I do hope you’ll share with me the honour of a game later. Old soldiers need their pastimes, after all.”
Proud and amused... perhaps even somewhat relieved, the very first Lord President of the Time Lords looks down at his charge, a vaguely hopeful expression gracing the barely quirking edges of his mouth. Of course, the Doctor is already slumbering, his dirty rabbit head lolling there against Rassilon’s chest as he carries him inside.