"Pour me some wine," Tivan ordered as he sat on the stool in the kitchen, somewhat frustrated. The rims around his eyes were darker than usual and he looked absolutely miserable. Hanni reached for a black bottle on the rack, but he snapped, "Not that one, the one next to it, with the red label."

She nodded and grabbed it, examining the foreign writing as she poured the drink into an ornate glass. The wine was a dark, bloody red and smelled like cherries, just like the leaves he smoked. Hanni found herself becoming very fond of the smell. He sipped it somewhat noisily at first, then gulped it completely and placed the glass back down on the counter. She poured him more and he smiled.

"I didn't even have to ask," he muttered.

She didn't want to say what was really on her mind, as in, You look like you need it, master, and instead just said, "No point wasting a good bottle of wine on one drink."

He chuckled and raised his glass to her before starting in on it, examining her above the rim, his smirk fading. He polished off the drink once more, licking his lips with relish.

"You should eat," she suggested.

"You should know your place," he retorted.

Hanni blushed and set the bottle down on the counter. He breathed deeply and removed his white gloves, setting them to the side with a sigh and running his fingers through his white hair. Despite his reprimand, she still felt genuine concern for him; though she was his slave, she did not hate him. She bit her lip before asking, "Are you feeling alright, master?"

"No," he said, rubbing his temples.
"Headache?"
"How did you ever guess?" he snapped.

Then wine probably isn't the best thing for you right now, she thought, but instead reached across the counter to remove the glass. He reached forward and grabbed her hand roughly, though not painfully.

"Leave it," he commanded.

Hanni looked down at his hands to notice his black nail polish was chipped away almost completely and his nails were long. His makeup was smudged and he looked exhausted. His bruises had long since healed, but Hanni noticed the bandage around his head was old. She left the kitchen and walked to the closet Tivan normally kept locked, but for which he had given her a key. She retrieved the yellow liquid he had once used to treat her lacerated hand, as well as gauze and a small white towel. She returned to her master, whose head was in his hands, and gently began to unwrap the old bandage from his forehead. He looked up in alarm, but realized what she was doing and let her go. Carefully she unwound everything, examining the cut he had covered up – it was finally just about gone and what had healed was not scarring, but vanishing. She wasn't really surprised – he was an ancient, powerful being after all – no doubt he would have been long dead were it not for whatever powers he possessed naturally, including what must have been strong healing. Hanni tossed the bandage and washed her hands, returning to make sure the healing wound wouldn't need further care. Tivan was staring down his third glass of wine as Hanni gently moved his tall hair back to inspect his forehead. Deciding that he would be fine, she turned to grab the items and put them back into the closet, but he grabbed her wrist and held her there.

"Do that again," he mumbled.

"Master?"

He looked at her, his eyes dark and tired.

"With your hands," he muttered impatiently, quickly polishing off the third glass of cherry wine.

"Oh," she said, a little surprised. "Okay."

She set the items down and hesitated for a moment. An order is an order, she thought, placing her fingers against his forehead. Hanni pulled her hands back through his hair and he suddenly moaned. Smiling a little, she brought her nails down and began gently raking her fingers back along his head, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from his lips as he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. She continued the massage for several minutes before he finally began to snore, his breath coming in slow, heavy gasps. Hanni looked at him with a mix of pity and affection, removing the soft cloak from her shoulders and balling it up into a makeshift pillow on the counter. She gently tipped him forward in the chair so that his head was lying upon it, and there she left him to his deep sleep.