Gil hates the idea of possession, especially in relationships. He understands it, knows the primal sensibilities behind it, but he doesn't like it. My. Mine. He's seen too many homicides sprung from an over-developed sense of possession.

But his dislike of possessions doesn't change the fact that he is one.

'People aren't possessions.'

'You are.'

Circular arguments in his head. In the end he knows it's true, and there's nothing he particularly wants to do about it. Master's got brown hair, dark eyes and he wonders if his hands would fit around her waist. He'd like to try someday.