"How many regenerations do you have left?"

"Five. This is my seventh."

"Five. Five, four, three, two, one. You're over halfway done."

"Mother had to study regeneration somehow."

"It took seven tries. Not very clever, is she?"

"Four times. One time was all me, the other two was her punishing me for trying to kill her." He hums fondly. "Good times."

"Which part was it? The pain? The burning? The light?

"The burning. For a few blissful moments, everything is clear in my mind, no more compulsions and pounding. True silence."

"But never for quite long enough."

"No. But at least it's something to look forward to."

"Ever tried drugs?"

"What kind of drugs work on not-quite-Time Lords?"

"All of them. Not like they're supposed to, but they work."

"Sounds fun. I'll try everything at least thrice."

"There are plenty tucked away around here."

"Raincheck, for sure. Would appreciate more of this," he shakes his empty bottle of tequila, "maybe some cake and a pounding bass. I work better with all of those things. Bomb isn't going to build itself."

"Are you making the bomb out of cake and alcohol and music, or do you also need supplies?"

"I figured you'd have some sort of workshop and I'd wing it from there." He pauses. "That would make an interesting bomb though."

"I have a workshop. You are not going in my workshop."

"I don't really care where I am. Somewhere out of the way is probably ideal."

The Master gestures at the hallway.

"There are rooms. Pick one."

"I think I'd rather let her pick for me." He stands and walks over to the hallway. "I don't know how that would work, though."

"Every room you see is one she wants you to see."

Amy picks a door at random.

Inside, there is an olympic size swimming pool that stretches all the way to the walls.