The Master’s hands fell limply from their grip on his biceps as he allowed himself to be held. Their embrace fell quiet and assured, just as two centuries of its predecessors had done, sheltered by long red grass and the afternoon suns as each Time Lord redoubled his determination to forge freedom for the other. Each was so sure that the other shared his convictions. That they were reading from the same script; the same story, albeit at two different pages. 法师的双手无力地垂下，不再抓着他的胳膊，他让自己被拥抱着。他们的拥抱安静而坚定，就像两个世纪前的他们分享过的拥抱那样。在长长的赤色草丛与午后的阳光下，两位时间领主都加倍坚定了决心，为对方争取自由。他们都确信对方与自己有着同样的信念。他们读的是同一本剧本；同一个故事，尽管是在两张不同的书页上。