"Really? You're rushing me to be quicker at ordering over a thousand years of memories?" He was clearly not impressed, this wasn't some slap-dash job he could do in a minute or two. He actually had to sort these and reorder them. It was beyond a headache, especially when the order was not something he was overly aware of. No wonder the Doctor had to tweak him.

"How far back are we going anyway? I can only go till-- the third, was it? That's the last one I remember vividly. You can handle Gallifrey alone, I'm sure," the Master dismissed, not wanting to even get into that mine field. Why would he want too? Gallifrey was a distant memory now, ruined and twisted horribly.

As far as he was concerned, he preferred the war scenes. Seeing them suffer suited him just fine, he could watch it all day.