Taneleer Tivan woke slowly, like coming up through water for a breath of air. He was groggy and irritable, but at least he no longer had a headache. Suddenly he smelled something sweet and comforting, more so than the cherry wine he still tasted on his tongue. He lifted his head and opened his eyes to discover with a little bewilderment that he had fallen asleep on the counter.

How...? he thought, but suddenly remembered gulping down a third glass of wine, Hanni tending to his wound and running her fingers through his hair. He suddenly scowled as he noticed he had been sleeping on the balled up cloak she had been wearing earlier. Why? he thought, but quickly dismissed it. She was his slave, after all; his comfort was her main priority – that was what he had bought her for. He righted himself completely with a groan, clutching the cloak in his hands and shuffling out to the main corridor.

Examining the room, he realized it must have been night according to general universal time – the lights in his collection were dimmed and the doors had already been locked. His slave was nowhere to be seen. Assuming she must have been asleep already, he walked slowly around the remains of his collection, impressed by how much had been cleaned in the nearly two weeks he had had his servant. His footsteps made sharp clicks against the metal as usual, a sound he much preferred over the noise of crunching glass and rubble beneath his feet. He wiped his bare hand across a scarred table and paused to examine the photo he had placed there, suddenly sad over the state of the frame. He could no longer see the picture beneath the broken glass, but knew what was there all the same. Tivan continued walking his collection slowly, earning a few glances from his surviving exhibits. He examined a dark elf captive for a moment before turning away, the sudden appearance of Hanni in the room admittedly startling him. His eyebrows went up and she gave him an apologetic look. He noticed that her hair was wet and hanging about her shoulders – she must have just bathed.

"Feeling better?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he said. He paused for a moment before adding, "Thank you."

Hanni nodded and crossed her arms, looking about her. Her master rubbed his eyes groggily with the thumb and index finger of his right hand, and Hanni noticed the ruined nail polish once more.

"I can fix that for you," she suddenly blurted, and Tivan gave her a long stare. "If you wanted," she mumbled, falling off. He looked at his hands and noticed with chagrin that they were in poor shape. He had really been letting himself go lately.

"Very well," he said after a moment, sitting in a plush chair by the side of the room and drumming his fingers gently on the small end table next to him.

Hanni stared at him for a second before realizing he meant now. He raised an eyebrow at her, but told her where to find the necessary supplies and she went to retrieve them, returning quickly and piling them on the small table next to where her master was sitting. The surface was too small for her to tend to his hands, however; she decided to kneel on the ground to get a better angle. Hanni reached up gently and took her master's hand in her own – his touch was warm and his hands soft, despite the recent lack of pampering. She set to work slowly and he closed his eyes in relaxation. She was afraid he had fallen asleep again, but continued regardless for several minutes. Hanni put lotion in her palms and began gently massaging her master's hands and he sighed softly. She took it as an encouraging sign and couldn't help but smile a little.

Tivan relaxed in the chair as his slave worked on him, finally applying the thick black nail polish he was so fond of. He mentally admitted – somewhat begrudgingly – that her concern for him was valid. He had been utterly distracted and morose as of late, after everything that had happened. The loss of the orb was devastating enough, let alone half of his home, collection, part of his business, and quite a large portion of respect throughout the galaxy. Bad news traveled faster than he would have liked, and though no one doubted it was all due to the stupidity of his last slave, the fact remained that she had been his slave. Her actions made him look like a fool, and after the initial anger and fury came the sinking depression. He had hoped paying so much for his new slave would have brought him respect again, but so far it had only attracted vagabonds and thieves. Tivan's play wasn't for power; he could have that easily enough. He did have a lot through his corporation and black market trading... but it was not enough. The urge to gather unique and valuable beings, bits and baubles was nearly overwhelming – he knew he wouldn't feel normal again until he was adding to his collection. Suddenly he felt Hanni blowing on his fingertips and it sent shocks through his body. He jumped a little in his chair and she looked up at him inquisitively.

"Does that bother you?" she asked.

"What are you doing?" he asked, more gruffly than he had intended.

"Drying your nails," she said, a fearful expression suddenly flitting across her features.

Tivan felt a quick tinge of guilt, which surprised him. He relaxed and reached for a small jar of clear liquid and handed it to his slave and explained, "This will dry them immediately."

"Ok," she said, her voice small.

She still fears me, he thought. She should... But that felt wrong, somehow. After all, fear and punishment hadn't worked with his last slaves. He wondered if it had something to do with their Krylorian heritage, as their people were better pleasure-seekers and art-lovers than they were workers, but couldn't be sure. After all, Hanni was of an entirely different species, but she still appeared to be scared of him. Tivan sighed a little and his slave glanced up at him again.

"Master?" she asked, concern on her face again. She always seemed so worried about him.

Why should she care? he wondered. He knew it was mandatory for her to serve him and fulfill his every whim, but to show actual affinity was not something she was obligated to do. She had finished his nails and he could finally leave her presence, but...

"Do you fear me?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"No, master," she responded quickly, then equally as fast, "I mean, yes, master."

"Which one is it?" he asked, leaning forward.

Hanni looked back at him in earnest, doubt upon her face once more.

"I'm terrified," she whispered. Tivan wasn't sure why but his heart sank.

"Why do you fear me?"

Her lip trembled slightly and she bit it.

"Because you're my master. I'm supposed to..."

Tivan sighed deeply and reached out, placing his freshly manicured hand upon her cheek. Hanni jumped at first, but looked into his eyes. He stroked her face gently with his thumb, leaning forward a little more.

"You do not need to," he said softly.

Hanni's lips parted and she closed her eyes slightly, but her master released her cheek, rose, and walked away to his quarters without another sound, leaving his slave still sitting on the floor.