It was strange, to have someone stroking his hair like he was an infant with a fever, trying to offer him some measure of comfort. He didn't quite know what to do in response, it was an odd one and he supposed Barty didn't have much of a clue what to do. He wasn't the Doctor and he never would be, he didn't understand the Master. Yet. On the Valiant, he would always sit with the Doctor in moments like this, all silence but the drums. It always made him feel better but he didn't understand why or how.

He always hoped the Doctor would of listened properly but he never had. Groaning as the noise bounced around his skull and made his ears ring horribly and his teeth rattle, he moved closer to Barty and grasped desperately to Barty's shoulders. Their personal space was practically non existent as he gently rested his forehead against Barty's. And then he opened the floodgates to his torment.

"It won't stop. It never stops. The drums, they hurt. Please just listen."