–you bloody sap, Shut Up, there's nothing brilliant about being selfless, people do it so they can avoid guilt, what's so amazing or honourable about that–

The scotch was gone. By the time the Master had realized it and managed to wrench it back from the other Time Lord, there was only a swig left. He cocked his head at –Rassilon's left eye, another bleeding dead person, or at least he could be (but he's not real), not going to ask– Sirius and held up the bottle. "You said something about a replenishing charm?"

It was remarkably polite of him, not adding anything else to that statement about heroes and mythology and predictability. Nevermind the fact that he and Doctor had finished a bottle of scotch in about five minutes and did not appear to be intoxicated.