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The Doctor looks back from his waiter to once again read the note inside his fortune cookie, the tiny letters trying to make up for what’s a rather large message for such a small piece of paper, clearly designed by someone who doesn’t quite understand the concept of fortune cookies.
“Try not to get involved in business of others where your heart isn’t invested and where you aren’t really called out to comment and give advice on the matter.”
He looks up at the waiter again, who’s looking at him expectantly. The waiter with a strangely waxy face, that’s starting to come undone a bit near the eyes. He’s starting to think that maybe stranding the Master on Earth wasn’t the best of ideas, because that’s clearly not doing any favours to his admittedly already fragile gasp on reason and sense. Not that the Doctor would be the best person to judge him on that.
He does wonder if he should point out that it's considered rather offensive to try to pass himself off as Chinese, and that fortune cookies were a Japanese invention in America that isn’t even popular in China, but he decides against it. Telling the Master that something is offensive seems like the perfect way of getting him to keep on doing that, and the Doctor doesn’t think that he can stand many more of these masks.
“I would say the humans called me to give advice, old chap. I’m literally their scientific advisor, it’s exactly what they want me to do. Besides, you’ll find that both my hearts are rather invested in stopping you from destroying this planet that I happen to be trapped in for the foreseeable future,” the Doctor says, tossing away the pieces of the fortune cookie, and making sure to step on them so they’ll be completely destroyed.
There’s not a chance that he’ll eat anything that the Master gives him, or let anyone else eat it by accident. It’s not exactly that he thinks that the Master would poison him, the Master would probably find that a bit too pedestrian a way to kill him, and he does prefer a closer touch, but using some sort of chemical agent to incapacitate and kidnap him isn’t entirely out of the question. It’s always good to stay on the safe side, when it comes to the Master.
“Well, humans don’t matter, and I don’t remember ever calling for you to get all entangled in my plans,” the Master says, not at all surprised that the Doctor saw through his disguise.
To be fair, anyone who looked at his face, rather than just gave it a passing glance could tell that it wasn’t actually a human face, but passing himself off as a waiter is rather clever. Most people don’t pay all that much attention to their waiter.
The Doctor had seen through it from the start, but he saw no reason to say anything until he at least knew what the Master was trying to give him. He isn’t entirely sure that he understands the particulars of the plan now, but neither does he think that they matter. It’s more a question of getting his attention, as always.
“You’ll find that I was on Earth first, so if anything you’re the one involved in my business. Say, if you’re determined to interfere with my dinner, the least you could do is join me,” the Doctor says, gesturing at the chair in front of him.
Oh, yes, he should be calling UNIT and getting them to try to arrest the Master, and then he would cause some chaos and escape in the confusion. But the Doctor can do that just as well in about a couple of hours or so, after he’s had dinner. And if the Master is making him company, then it’s not like he can run away or cause any more trouble. Yes, keeping an eye on the Master is likely the best course of action, there’s no need to get UNIT involved. He’s got a perfect handle of the situation as it is, and doesn’t need any help from them.
The Master is either considering his offer or he needs to sneeze, it’s hard to tell with the mask. Still, after exactly sixty seconds of awkward tension, he takes off his mask, as well as the waiter’s uniform, revealing his usual clothes underneath.
Thankfully, all the humans around are too busy to take any notice of them. Either that or the Master has them hypnotised, but hopefully it’s not that. The Doctor wouldn’t want to have to spend the rest of the night helping this many people escape hypnotic suggestions and making sure that there’s no latent command embedded in their minds.
Finally, once the Master is convinced that he’s presentable enough, he sits down in front of the Doctor, taking a menu for himself.
“I do plan on killing you tonight, but I suppose that can wait until after dinner. We’re both civilised men, after all,” the Master says, although they both know that the night won’t end with the Doctor dead any more than it will end with the Master arrested.
Anything else is still up in the air, but for now the night exists in a quantum state of unrealised potential. The Doctor can’t wait to see how they’ll manage to ruin everything and collapse this into something destructive.