He made a show of examining the nose in question. "It looks a bit melted, actually. Like soft wax." And while the Doctor seemed disdainful of the epic pouts his former self had been so free with, the Master knew his pouts were far more effective, and assumed one, his voice taking on a wounded note. "And it was hardly a dye job. It was a side effect."

As had been the insatiable hunger and the ability to shoot lightning bolts and jump like a rocket-propelled kangaroo. Those were gone, he could feel it. His metabolism wasn't burning at a hummingbird's pace anymore.