Stephan Mandeville.  The man had come from money.  He had also ended up being blessed with a big heart, and he used his wealth and social standing to fight for causes he believed in.  Neko rights had been one of those he had been passionate about.  That Max had come into his possession was not by seeking out a pet, but rather coming across a half dead neko in the street one cold December evening.<br/><br/>It had never been slavery or ownership, not really.  Max had always been free to go.  The offer of food and warmth and a soft bed had made it hard to leave, though.  That didn’t stop Max from threatening it again and again.  But Stephan had been kind.  He showed Max things he’d never noticed before.  Art.  Antiques.  Things that were rare and beautiful.  Despite his rough life up until then, Max was able to develop an eye for it.<br/><br/>Stephan…  It was the name that had always been used to refer to that man.  For eight years, it was always Stephan.  Stephan who clothed him.  Stephan who fed him.  Stephan who saw that he was educated and healthy and safe.  Once on his deathbed, however, Max had fallen to calling him Master.  Strange, since neko slavery had been outlawed for over two years by then.<br/><br/>Months later, the neko was alone.  All Stephan’s wealth had passed to him, thanks to updated laws, a well written will, and no surviving family to squabble and fight him over it.<br/><br/>Most of the staff left once all the affairs were settled.  Colleagues cut ties with the estate, investors withdrew.  The only one left in his home was a young man from the household staff named Theodore.  He was kind of cute… twenty-two, dark hair, and pretty green eyes.  Lonely as Max was, he could’ve seen himself falling for someone like that.  Theodore also had a progressive way of thinking.  Too bad he was only interested in girls.<br/><br/>As far as the building downtown, most of the employees there either left, were persuaded out, or had to be dismissed for various reasons, one being declining profit.  There was still a male secretary who seemed to have Max’s best interests in mind and one disarmingly sweet researcher with a fiery passion for the items that came through.  Neither of them seemed phased by the fact that they worked for a neko, and they looked down on those who did.  At least they had his back.<br/><br/>A full six months after Stephan’s passing, Max sat on the plush sofa, sprawled out, gloomy and disheveled.  A glass of whiskey hung under his hand, the only thing keeping it from crashing to the ground the precarious grip his fingers had on either side of the rim.  His suit, though tailored to fit his form, looked all wrong on him in this state.  In any state, really.<br/><br/>Pale amber eyes stared at the ceiling.  Life had been a wild ride, but he’d never really felt as lost and helpless as he did then.<br/><br/>It was only three short years since he was considered a free man in the eyes of the law.  Too little time to mean much in the minds of those who lost their slaves.  Too little time to mean much to his own sour disposition.  Freedom was all well and good, but being able to survive, to thrive in the newly changed world was important.  Those freed neko were allowed to stand on their own two feet, though who wanted to hire one for more than washing dishes or cleaning out chimneys?  There were fetish strip clubs, too.  Neko of both genders on street corners in the inner city.  Dirty or degrading jobs… those were seen as appropriate.  But a neko in a fine suit and tie showing up to negotiate a business proposal?  That was laughable.  So much that Max couldn’t find anyone to take him seriously.<br/><br/>That was the whole reason for his recent moping.  It was hard to land any kind of deal, a sale or purchase, after the client met him face to face.  Interest waned.  Doubts arose.  How could a neko know about art or fine pottery?  Whether they thought it was a scam or just couldn’t stand the thought of acknowledging him as on their level, he just couldn’t seem to make it work.<br/><br/>That day had marked yet another failure.  What would his late master think of him now?  Would he be disappointed?  Worried?  Regretful?  The odds were stacked against him.  It wasn’t his fault, was it?  Something had to be done…<br/><br/>The plan might’ve been devised during a drunken session of feeling sorry for himself, but he couldn’t put it out of his mind.  The business hadn’t changed, only the face of it.  If he could transfer another, someone fully human, to assume that role and win over the bigoted assholes refusing to associate with a neko, then perhaps he could save Stephan’s beloved business from caving in on itself.  He instructed his secretary, Jason, to write up a job offer and send it out through the appropriate channels.  All the responses that came in went through Christy, the researcher.  She weeded through everything, did the background checks, and came down with the top three candidates.<br/><br/>The first interview was at the office, and it fell through.  Even though there was no history of violence or anti-neko affiliations, the woman in question was opposed to what she thought was merely working alongside a neko for the same pay.  The second interview didn’t fare much better, the middle aged man passing the test of character, but couldn’t even tell the difference between a Kutani and a Rose Mandarin teapot without looking for the markings.<br/><br/>One to go.<br/><br/>“Maybe I should’ve been more specific.  I could reformat the job offer and we could try again,” Jason suggested, staring out the front windows of the grand house with tense shoulders and a tightened brow.  The suit wasn’t his, but he looked good in it.<br/><br/>“There was nothing wrong with it the first time,” Max murmured.  “It’s the quality of people, not the offer.”<br/><br/>“I guess…”<br/><br/>“If you or Christy would just step up and do it, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”<br/><br/>“No way!  We’ve been over this before.  I’m no good with art, and she buckles under pressure.  We’d do the business more harm than good,” Jason insisted.  There was silence, then the sound of a rattling buckle.  “Anyway… are you sure about this?”<br/><br/>Max didn’t answer.  He was busy adjusting the collar around his neck.  It was blue with a little black ribbon and lace trim, what appeared to be a sapphire as the centerpiece.  Something a rich man would’ve put on a valuable pet.  The silver bell dangling from the front seemed to make it even more degrading to him.  He had never been one of those fluffy neko brats, and it kind of bothered him to pose as one.  It was important to get a genuine reaction, though.  Max had to look the part.<br/><br/>He’d burn the damned thing later.<br/><br/>The doorbell chimed.<br/><br/>“Alright, Theo,” he signaled with a nod.<br/><br/>Max was already getting into position on the floor beside the sofa, shoulders curled in to seem less broad, pride taking a back seat to looking as small and demure as possible.  Jason took up the role of the master of the house, perfect confidence in his posture as he positioned himself on the sofa close to Max. There were a few rare items on the coffee table, and then the typical décor.  No personal items had been changed at all, leaving a large portrait of Stephan over the mantle and a handful of more candid pictures framed throughout the room.<br/><br/>“Bring him in.”<br/><br/><i>Let’s see how good this one is.</i>