So there are more of them in the future. Sort of. Perhaps his Time Lord Empire finally does come to fruition, after all. Well. Of course it must. The drums thudding in his head tell him that there can only be victory in his future.

So the Master smiles, leans in also, not intimidated either even as the guards cock their semi-automatics. She's only a girl, in the end, no matter what species.

"Careful," he murmurs. "You don't know who you're dealing with." As if on cue, several Toclafane appear, whirring eagerly at the edges of the group. Just itching to make mincemeat of her.