Remember when I said this was a two-shot? It's a three-shot now. Too many ideas!
Prompt: Shaking hands, silent panic attack
"Honestly, what were you thinking?"
Burton sighed as he slouched into the house behind his mother, still leading his new slave on his leash. His mother had been going on and on for almost ten minutes straight; surely she'd have to stop to breathe soon.
"You certainly aren't getting that card back, no sir. I won't be making that mistake again."
"Now, Winnie, there's no need to be rash," Burton's father said as he closed the door behind him. "Let's just see how he does for the next month or so…"
"You have always been too gentle on them, and this is what it gets you." She waved at the slave before flapping her hands to fan herself. "Oh, my. I just can't handle anymore. I need to bake a pie."
Burton glanced back as his mother flounced off and caught his slave quickly looking back down at the ground. Burton didn't have time to wonder if he saw anything when his father came up next to him. "Now, son, remember. He's your responsibility. Why don't you go get him settled into your room and come back down at dinner time?"
Burton nodded and waited until his father was out of sight before he turned around to look at his impulse buy. His eyes traced the leash leading from his hand to his slave's neck and his mind suddenly went blank on what he was supposed to do next. Would the slave follow him without the leash? What did slaves do when they weren't actively cleaning or cooking? Did he have to directly order everything, or would his slave do things on their own?
Burton shook his head and banished the quickly overwhelming thoughts. His father had said to take him to his room; that was a good start at least. He jerked his head to the side and said, "Come on, my room's upstairs."
Leaving the leash on until then made sense, right?
"That's my parent's room, they probably won't want you in there; that's my sister Joy's room, she definitely won't want either of us in there; that's the bathroom, it's cool to be in there; and here's my -our?- room."
He led his slave into his room and quickly put the box of 'accessories' down on his desk before turning back around. He glanced at the clip holding the leash to the collar and gestured towards it, feeling guilt stir in his gut as his slave flinched back.
"Uh… do you take this off, or do I…"
God, he had no idea what he was doing.
His slave's eyebrow's twitched slightly, and Burton wondered if it was in confusion or amusement at his clueless master. He was answered, though, when his slave lifted his chin slightly, making it easier for Burton to reach the clip and undo it.
Burton moved closer, not wanting to risk the collar going off if he tugged it wrong, and gently unclipped the lead. He found himself noticing how the collar moved slightly with his slave's Adam's apple, how a shadow of stubble showed on his chin under the black leather gag, and how the skin on his neck was scarred along the collar's edge. He couldn't help but take a second to look the collar over, never seeing one this close before. The thick, metal ring was mostly self-contained with a few lights blinking to show its status and four small rings set in front, back, and both sides for things like leashes to be clipped on. It looked heavy, and not at all comfortable.
Warm breath blew by his ear and he blinked suddenly, realizing he'd just been standing there staring at his slave's neck for an uncomfortably long amount of time. It might have only been a few seconds, but that was still far too long to be normal.
Burton backed away quickly, averting his eyes before remembering the slave's eyes were also averted. Great, they were both avoiding looking at each other. That was a fantastic start to… whatever their relationship was. His masterhood?
He made a face at the word and turned to put the leash on his desk next to the box. He stayed there, his mind racing as he tried to process his new reality. He had a slave. He was in charge of a slave. A slave was in his room, and that slave belonged to him.
No matter how he said it, it just sounded absurd. Burton turned to check on his slave and found him already kneeling in the corner. It wasn't an unusual sight by any means, he'd seen it in plenty of other houses and rooms, but it looked wrong here. The corner suddenly looked much smaller, and his slave seemed to take up the entire side of the room. Which didn't make sense considering his slave was sitting back on his heels and making himself as small and inconspicuous as possible.
What was he supposed to do now?
He didn't know anything about how to handle a slave. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, he didn't know what was against the rules, he didn't know what his slave was expecting. He'd wanted to keep his slave from the vendor. He hadn't actually thought about taking him home. He was eighteen; he was still getting used to being in charge of himself, for christ's sake!
He looked around desperately, hoping he'd see a clue to guide him, and his eyes landed on the remote to his slave's collar.
He didn't know what any of the buttons did, other than the big red one that hurt his slave somehow, but every slave had one. So, if he could figure out what the collar was designed to do, then he could figure out what the slave was supposed to do. Which would help him figure out what he was supposed to do. Right?
It was the best idea he had, and he quickly opened the box to look for the manual. Even the two-button remote his grandma had to lift her chair up and down had a manual, there had to be one for this one.
He started moving things to the side to reach the bottom of the box where he saw some paperwork. A small, black, cup-like thing fell against his hand, and he stopped digging as he stared at it and tried to understand what it was. He brought it out and looked it over closer, letting the curved back of the small circle of hardened leather rest in his palm. It was just slightly smaller than his hand, the edges around the hollowed-out center were tacky, and there was a strip of metal stretching out of the side at an angle, looking like it was designed to attach into something else. He had no idea what he was looking at.
Burton's curiosity was piqued, and he looked back in the box, finding a second black circle and a large black strap with a buckle at the end that all seemed to be part of a set. He bucked the strap and found where the circles latched on, one on either side of the loop. He held it out once it was all assembled and noticed how the circles angled slightly inwards. He still had no idea what he was looking at. He glanced over at his slave and froze.
His slave hadn't moved, but his shoulders were tight, his eyes were unfocused, his head was ducked further down, and he was barely breathing. Just like he had acted on the pier with the vendor. Whatever the thing was, it was bad.
Burton's eyes caught on the black strap of leather around his slave's face, and he looked down at the black strap of leather in his hands. They were part of a set.
Burton breathed out in realization, "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil…"
The blindfold and earmuffs seemed to grow hot in his hands, burning him, and Burton dropped them quickly on the desk as his mind reeled. He was in charge of a person. He had complete control over a person. He could take away everything from this person.
He had been looking for a manual for a person.
Nausea rose up in his throat and he quickly swallowed it down as he started to shake. There was an invisible iron band threatening to squeeze his chest and he tried his hardest to keep his frantic breathing silent.
He might not know what he was doing, but he was pretty sure freaking out in front of the person he owned wasn't the right play.
He closed his eyes and silently counted to ten, forcing his thoughts to be quiet so he could think. He needed to approach this from a new angle. He was in charge of taking care of a person. He'd babysat a few times, what did he have to worry about? Humans had three basic needs: Sleep, food and water, and bathrooms.
The last one seemed the easiest to figure out.
He let out one last breath before turning and asking tentatively, "Do you need to go to the bathroom?"
His slave shook his head, murmuring a quick two sounds into his gag. His shoulders had loosened slightly when Burton had shown a clear distaste for the blindfold, but he still seemed tense.
Burton sighed; it wasn't like he'd given him any reasons to not be tense. "Hey, uh, sorry about… that. I won't- I don't want to do stuff like that. I'm not gonna hurt you."
His slave didn't react, his body still held tight like he was expecting a kick at any minute.
The vendor's words echoed back in Burton's mind, 'It's useless, it's mouthy, and it can't be trained.'
His slave seemed pretty well trained to him, though he supposed he hadn't really asked for anything yet. But what was a mouthy slave even like?
Burton tried to tell himself that he needed to earn his slave's trust, and his slave needed to eat, and he needed to make his slave more comfortable… His next move didn't have anything at all to do with his curiosity.
"I'm going to come over there and take off that gag, ok? That's it, I'm not going to hurt you."
Burton watched carefully as he walked over and reached for the back of the strap around his slave's face. His slave bowed his head further, bringing the back of the strap into view, and Burton tried to not notice his slave's nervous twitching fingers at the vulnerable position. He was grateful that the buckle was simple; he was able to easily undo it and pull the strap away, only encountering resistance when his slave had to drop his jaw to make room for something to pull out of his mouth.
Burton stared at the large, metal tongue that was attached to the strap, and he flipped it over with shaking hands to take in the red, glistening underside that was studded with small spikes.
It took his brain a second to catch up with what he was seeing before he turned away to dry heave several times.
It was blood. He was holding something coated in blood. He was holding something that had been in his slave's mouth and was coated in blood.
All of the times his slave had tried to speak into his gag and then winced suddenly made perfect sense. In a way that didn't make sense at all. Why would he try to talk if he was having to tear up his tongue to do it?
Burton looked back at his slave and winced when he saw how he was managing to stay completely still and cringe away at the same time. So much for not showing how much he was freaking out.
"Sorry, it's not you," Burton tried to reassure him while also trying to not gag again, "I don't do well with blood."
He stood up and walked back to his desk, being careful to not look at the thing still hanging from his hands. He pulled out his trash can -lined, thank god- and dumped the gag unceremoniously in it. After only a second's thought, he added the blindfold and earmuffs to it. He didn't care if his slave was the worst behaved person in the world, there was no way in hell he was going to put those on him. He kicked the can back under his desk, listening for the satisfying clunk of it hitting the wall before he turned and asked the next question on his list. "Are you hungry?"
His slave twitched, and his eyes seemed to almost look up before they locked back on the ground as he answered in a monotone voice, "Yes, Master."
Burton twitched at the name, but he had enough to freak out over. That one was going to have to wait. "Ok, stay here. I'll be right back."
A light blinked on the collar and his slave's lip's twitched slightly before he said, "Yes, Master."
Burton was almost out of the door before he remembered an important question. He turned back to ask, "Do you have any food allergies?"
His slave twitched, his head pulling back and his mouth falling partially open. A quiet beep sounded, and the slave snapped back to his previous position and answered, "No, Master."
Burton nodded and left his room, trying to ignore the disappointment bubbling under his nausea. What exactly had he been hoping for? That his slave would start singing broadway tunes or handing out one-liners left and right?
His mother was still in the kitchen, balling up a mound of dough onto her baking mat as he walked in. She huffed and informed him, "I was too stressed for pie. We're having bread. Having second thoughts yet?"
"Nope," Burton said, realizing it wasn't a lie. He was freaking out, but he wasn't regretting his decision. "I just came down to get him some food."
"Well, he's certainly not eating dinner with us," she said as she punched the dough down and a cloud of flour puffed back into her face.
"Ok," Burton easily agreed. Eating in his room would mean he wouldn't have to deal with an awkward dinner full of lectures and passive aggressive remarks.
He made his way to the fridge and looked inside, hoping to find inspiration for something he could make quickly so his slave wouldn't have to wait long. His eyes landed on a jar of jelly and he grinned as he pulled it out.
Who didn't like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?
It didn't take him long to grab the rest of the ingredients as his mother angrily kneaded the dough in the background. He put the peanut butter on as thick as he could, figuring his slave could use the protein, and made sure to add just enough jelly to be properly sweet without squeezing out of the sides and making a mess. As he put everything away, he saw a container of chopped pineapple in the fridge. He only debated for a second before grabbing it and adding some of the fruit to his plate.
"Hmph, he's just a slave. He probably would have been fine with plain oatmeal," his mother grumbled, her shoulders working furiously as she pressed the dough into submission.
Burton raised an eyebrow at the challenge and proceeded to cut the sandwich in half, stacking the pieces like a fancy diner before garnishing the top with a sprinkling of crushed peanuts. He added a few pretzels for salt and crunch and stared at his mother as he used a napkin to clean the pineapple juice from the edges of the plate, making sure it looked as nice as possible.
She rolled her eyes at the display and didn't answer.
A nervous tension started to squeeze the insides of his chest as he threw away the napkin and grabbed a fork. He was totally stalling. And making a point, but mostly just stalling.
He tried to not let any of his nervousness show as he filled a glass with water, grabbed the plate, and walked back out of the kitchen.
When he returned to his room, he saw his slave hasn't moved an inch while he was gone. His slave's eyes seemed to lock onto the plate even though his head didn't move, and Burton took a step in his direction before realizing he'd forgotten an important detail. He went back to his desk to trade the glass of water for the remote, looking at it carefully to figure out how to release his slave's hands.
The buttons for controlling the cuffs around his slave's ankles and wrists were easy to find, with the outline of a human body right next to them, but he had no idea which button would make them draw closer together or further apart. He glanced at the box, where he knew the manual was, before shaking his head at himself.
He had a question about a person, so he needed to ask that person. Simple.
He held the remote out, so his slave could see the buttons, and asked, "Do you know which one of these will get your hands free?"
The reaction wasn't what he expected as his slave immediately tensed and froze, his eyes darting between the remote and the plate of food as he began to tremble. The quiet beep sounded out again and his slave still didn't say anything, locked in an internal debate. A second beep came from the collar, louder this time, and his slave answered shakily, "Th-the button closer to the body. It lengthens the chain. If y-you press and hold, it retracts the chain all the way."
A lower beep sounded and his slave jolted with a look of pain before quickly adding, "Master. Sorry. Master."
"You have to say that," Burton realized as he stared. His slave nodded slightly, his eyes back on the ground as he seemed to brace himself. He flinched as Burton flipped the remote back around, but his look turned to surprise when Burton pressed and held the button he'd been told.
There was a mechanical click behind his slave's back, but he didn't move his hands from their position. At least he looked slightly less like he was expecting a beating, Burton consoled himself as he brought the food over.
He put the glass of water down in easy reach and held out the plate. His slave didn't move, though he was clearly fighting to not stare at the food right in front of him. Burton's heart sank; his slave seemed to almost be expecting him to eat it right in front of him. How often had he been tempted by food only to have it taken away?
"It's ok, take it. It's for you."
A small light blinked green on the collar, and his slave's shoulders relaxed as he gingerly took the plate. "Thank you, Master."
"Please stop calling me that," Burton sighed as he held out the fork.
His slave's lip twitched down as the collar blinked green again. He glanced up to see what was being held out as he said, "Yes, si-" His eyes stopped moving and his mouth dropped open. "You're giving me a fork?!" The collar beeped and his slave jolted again, his hands barely moving as they held the plate.
Burton felt just as surprised as the slave looked as he answered, "Yes…? The pineapple's getting soft. You can eat it with your hands if you want-" His slave continued to look shocked, and Burton changed what he was going to say. "Was I not supposed to?"
"You do realize I could stab you with this, right?" His slave asked back, making the question sound like a statement before adding a belated, "Sir."
"Are you going to?" Burton asked, curiosity making his feet stay within stabbing range.
His slave glanced at the feet in front of him. "...No, sir."
"Good. You can eat, you know." A new light blinked yellow and his slave moved quickly as he grabbed a pineapple chunk and shoved it in his mouth. He froze without even chewing, as though waiting to be ordered to spit it back out, and Burton deliberately turned around to walk back to his desk.
He might not know what he was doing, but he was going to do his best to not be like whatever owner had given his slave those reactions.
He sat down at his desk glanced back as he opened his laptop, making sure his slave was actually eating. He wasn't dumb, far from it. His slave was having to follow a set of rules that Burton didn't know. And he needed to fix that fact. It was time for some research.
He glanced at the box and the manual before turning back to the laptop screen. It didn't count as looking up a manual for a person; he was just looking for a manual for a collar that could control a person.
Burton sighed at the terrible logic. It really wasn't different. But at least it was less obvious what he was doing if he just googled for it.
He found the manual quickly enough and started reading the first page as he waited for the rest of it to load.
[Congratulations on your new purchase, we hope it serves its purpose well. Please read the following pages carefully for setup and maintenance of your slave's collar. If you do not find your purchase satisfactory, see additional command prompts on page 23b, or view our alternate disciplinary add-ons available for purchase on our website. Controller Gurus are also available at any of our stores for your convenience…]
Burton skimmed the rest until he reached the table of contents, and he still wasn't sure whether the 'purchase' the manual kept mentioning was the collar or the slave attached to the collar. It seemed to make sense for either one. He clicked on the link to take him to the page "How to Make Your Purchase Work for You!"
He skimmed the introduction that listed all of the different ways the collar could be configured depending on what a slave was being used for. He slowed down once he reached a list of basic orders every collar was programmed with, as well as an addendum right after.
[It is recommended by experts to allow the slave to discover these orders on its own, as the collar will warn it of a broken order before disciplinary actions are automatically taken. Calibration for these actions can be adjusted, see page 26 for details. It is also recommended to not allow the slave to know the limits or controls for its collar, as that could reduce its compliance and resale value…]
The nausea started rolling in his gut again as he reread the addendum before looking over at his slave. He understood now why he'd been so nervous telling him about the remote. Burton has basically forced him to choose between eating and giving away the fact that he knew more than he was supposed to know.
How hungry must he have been to take that risk?
His slave had already polished off the pineapple and was working through the sandwich, eating as fast as his mouth could keep up. Burton swallowed and said tentatively, "You shou- This isn't an order, just… if you keep eating that fast, you might make yourself sick."
His slave froze, but the collar didn't react to the not-order and he started eating again, just as fast. His eyes flicked over and Burton couldn't help but smirk at the clearly deliberate test to see what he'd do. "I don't care, but I'm also not cleaning up the mess if you make one."
His slave wrinkled his nose slightly and begrudgingly slowed down. Burton turned back to the computer, a strange feeling warming his chest and making him smile. He knew he'd been right about that spark of life.
The smile faded as he looked through the pre-programed rules.
[The collar will ensure that the slave will:
-Follow any order given to it by its primary or secondary owners.
-Answer any question posed to it.
-Answer all questions truthfully.
-Stay silent unless given direct orders to speak outside of a question.
-This may be adjusted with perpetual orders, see page 10 for options.
-This may be adjusted for disciplinary mode, see page 26 for calibrations.
-Never touch the controller for the collar.
-Never move outside of a half-mile radius of the controller.
-Exceptions can be programmed in for specific time frames up to two hours. If additional time is needed, please contact our support staff to make a request.
Additional rules may be set or removed verbally or manually through the web portal. Indicators on the collar (See page 3) will blink to show the order status once they've been given.]
"Jesus," Burton breathed out. "That thing can even tell when I'm asking a question?"
He heard a beep and glanced over just in time to see a look of panic cross his slave's face as he tried to clear his mouth of the sticky peanut butter to answer. The collar beeped again in warning and he answered with a muffled, "Yesh, shir."
Burton couldn't help his curiosity as he asked, "What if it doesn't sound like a question."
His slave swallowed quickly and opened his mouth before freezing with an unsure look. The collar beeped and the slave quickly answered, "Yes, sir."
Burton's heart stuttered as he realized what he'd done. "Sorry. That was mean. That was mean and stupid, I didn't think- Sorry."
And here he was hoping to be better than the last guys.
The line between his slave's eyebrows was back, and his head cocked slightly to the side, like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. His eyes flicked back to the food still on the plate as he waited for more questions, and Burton looked at the untouched glass of water in front of him. He frowned; if his slave was that hungry, surely he was thirsty too…
He glanced back at the manual and quickly clicked the link to take him to page 3 and the list of collar indicators.
[The most common indicators are:
-Green: An order has been set.
-Yellow: An order has been removed.
-Red: An order was not able to be programmed.
See page 36 for common problems and troubleshooting.]
Burton swallowed as he remembered the yellow light when he'd told his slave he could eat. He'd never said he could drink.
"You can drink too," Burton said, watching the collar carefully and having his hunch confirmed when it blinked yellow. His slave relaxed a bit faster than last time, reaching out to take the glass in one hand and grabbing the second half of the sandwich with the other.
More questions piled up in Burton's mind, and he forced himself to wait a few minutes as his slave ate and drank before he finally couldn't hold it back any longer. "How on earth were you considered mouthy if you aren't allowed to talk without that thing zapping you?"
There was a hint of pride in the small upturn of his slave's lips as he answered in a monotone, "I've been told I have 'stubbornness issues', sir."
Burton couldn't help but smile at the response before clarifying, "So, you just talked through the shocks?"
"Yes, sirrrrr," his slave stretched the r sound as he seemed to make a snap decision and continued, "it's also easy to keep answering a question after it's been answered without getting the shock. You can say all sorts of things before it starts to-" the collar beeped in warning and he stopped.
Burton huffed a laugh. "Why didn't they just stop asking questions?"
"Apparently, people ask a lot more questions than they realize." His slave shrugged and took a bite of food, waiting for the first beep to add on, "Shir."
Burton narrowed his eyes at his slave, thinking through the list of commands he'd read in the manual. "The collar doesn't make you add the honorifics. So why is it making you use them?"
His slave hesitated, his face suddenly turning blank as he answered, "I don't understand the question, sir."
Burton waved at his computer in explanation. "The collar has set rules you have to follow, but the honorifics, the 'master' and 'sir', aren't one of them."
A long silence followed as his slave seemed to be waiting for something, his hands twitching by his side. Burton nearly facepalmed when he realized what he'd forgotten. "Sorry. Do you know why you have to keep saying them?"
His slave relaxed and slowly picked up one of the pretzels, flipping it around in his hand as he answered, "One of my previous owners ordered me to 'always be polite' and say them, sir."
Burton frowned. "But I'm your owner now." His slave nodded in agreement and Burton continued as he thought out loud, "Their orders are still in effect."
His slave nodded again, the pretzel spinning faster and faster around his fingers.
"Shit." Burton sat back and thought. His slave's previous owners seemed to be dicks, and he didn't want to be surprised by any more orders that were designed to hurt his slave. Like the specific order to not drink anything. He turned to his computer and opened a new tab to type a question, looking through several answers to make sure he had the right wording before saying clearly, "I rescind any and all previous orders."
The light on the collar blinked yellow, the light staying on for several seconds before blinking off, and his slave's jaw dropped. He looked over at Burton, his eyes rising as far as his legs before stopping as he asked, "You realize that includes the orders from my trainers, right?"
The collar beeped angrily, and his slave yelped quietly as his whole body tensed. Burton frowned and glanced at the messaging boards, reading out loud, "The collar won't allow its pre-programmed commands to be overwritten. Only the orders given after the collar was activated will be removed." His slave's jaw twitched, and he looked back down at the ground, his shoulders slumping slightly. Burton only debated with himself for a second before asking, "Do you want to know what those rules are?"
He wasn't supposed to tell his slave the rules, but it didn't seem fair having him figure it out on his own. 'Resale value' be damned.
His slave seemed to be good at making him want to break the rules.
"Yes…" his slave paused, waiting for a beep or a shock as he left the 'sir' off. None came and his lips twitched in a small smile before returning to a neutral look.
Burton nodded and quickly read the list off, wincing as he realized there still wasn't much room for his slave to do much without direct orders. His slave didn't seem to agree as he cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. He glanced over before slowly moving, keeping a careful eye on Burton's knee as he shifted from kneeling to sitting. No beeps sounded out and an actual smile crossed his face as he leaned back into the wall.
And Burton felt like a complete idiot. Of course kneeling wasn't comfortable, why didn't he think of that?
What else had he been taking for granted about his slave's actions?
…Besides still just calling him 'his slave'.
"Uh… What should I call you? For your name?" Burton asked.
His slave's mouth turned up again in a faint show of pride as he answered dryly, "I've been called all sorts of things. 'Hey you', 'Idiot', 'Piece of shit', 'Stubborn bastard.'" His voice warmed slightly on the last one, as though he was particularly proud of that instance.
"Ok, but what about actual names?"
"I've been called Tom, Dick, and Harry. All by the same guy." His face was carefully blank, and Burton decided quickly those weren't good names to use.
He opened his mouth to demand to know what his slave's real name was before stopping himself. His slave wasn't allowed to lie, and he hadn't given that information freely in the previous questions. Hell, Burton didn't even know if he had a real name; were slaves given names when they were born? He wasn't going to let curiosity get the better of him this time. "What do you want to be called?"
His slave raised an eyebrow and answered with a cadence that didn't match anything he'd previously said. "A slave doesn't own its name, its body, or its person. It belongs to its owner, completely."
Burton was pretty sure there was more to the speech, but his slave stopped talking and he didn't press for details.
It seemed wrong, just picking a name. Like he was naming a dog. But it also seemed wrong to leave his slave without any name, taking away that small amount of humanity he could give him. Maybe if it was a good enough name… he looked around his room for inspiration.
"Ok… If you- I want… you should-" He made a face and grumbled, "Damn, it's hard to not make this an order. For now, I'm going to call you Morgan. But if you think of a name you'd prefer, I'd… I'll change it."
He stared at the collar and was relieved when no lights blinked. But was his slave ok with it? "Is… is that ok?"
His slave's eyes looked around quickly, as if he was able to take in the room in a split-second. "You're naming me after Morgan Freeman?"
"How did you…" Burton eyed up the background on his computer, where it was showing a poster of Shawshank Redemption. "Dang. You're good."
Morgan smirked and ate the pretzel he'd been fidgeting with. He winced as he chewed, and Burton suddenly remembered the gag glistening with blood. "Oh, crap. I forgot that your mouth was hurt. Don't feel like you have to eat the salty stuff, I can get you something else…" His mind raced. Part of taking care of someone was taking care of their injuries if they were hurt. His sl- Morgan was hurt, he needed to help. "I think we have some canker sore stuff that might help. Are you hurt anywhere else?"
Morgan stilled and took a long, measured breath as his collar beeped. He answered evenly, "Only my mouth is hurt."
Burton frowned at the strange reaction but shrugged and left to look for the tube of medicine. His sister had gone through at least five of them when she'd worn braces, he knew they had to still have some. He finally found what he was looking for and came back to his room, seeing the empty plate and glass in front of Morgan.
Burton made a mental note to get him more food, stuff that wouldn't hurt his mouth this time, as he handed over the tube of medicine. "You need to… When I do it, I squeeze some on my finger and then rub it wherever it hurts. It'll help numb the area and help it heal better."
Morgan nodded and began applying the gel to his tongue and cheeks, watching carefully any time he squeezed out an extra drop of the medicine. Burton sat and watched as things seemed to click into place. He didn't know what he was doing, but at least he knew what he didn't want to do. If he was going to be an owner, then he was going to be the best owner he could be.
"I'm going to have to go back downstairs soon for dinner, and Mom is being all weird still. I know there's bread and…" Burton sniffed, smelling ketchup, onions, and cooking beef, "meatloaf. Do you have any food you'd like me to bring up?"
Morgan hesitated before asking tentatively, "More pineapple?"
Burton smiled. "I can do that."