She was asleep, and he had no desire to wake her. She'd poked at him enough, drawn her conclusions. The Master leaned his head back, trying to reconcile all of what had happened-- their words, their actions, the things he'd experienced in her mind-- with his own conflicting feelings, and found himself unable to do so.

And so instead he found himself sitting in the growing dark, listening to the patter of the rain, the echoing noises inside, the rhythm of her breathing, his eyes closed. After a while, uninhibited by the notion of anyone witnessing it, he allowed tears to silently leak down his face.

((ooc: shall we leave it there for now?))