The Doctor accepted the mess that poured over from the Master's mind without questioning, offing an unobtrusive mental hand when the Master floundered. His choice entirely, what (if anything) he wanted from it.

A soft snort, and no need to communicate -Easy. You'll have to do better than that.- any other way.

"Eight billion, six twenty five million, forty thousand, five hundred and six point six zero five zero four zero five two six eight."