At his coaxing, she moved to sit on the opposite lounge, though her wary look remained. Her first assumption was that she was about to be punished for something, that the bath had just been a distraction or an attempt to lower her guard before the other shoe dropped. If that was the case, she knew better than to try to fight or run, but disciplinary measures were often lost on one as stubborn as her. They never dissuaded her from misbehaving, they only ensured that she became even more furtive and crafty in her ways to avoid being caught the next time. At his revelation, however, the mask of hostility briefly slipped, leaving her looking truly surprised for a moment.<i>Pet.</i>As if she was a pup to be plucked from a kennel. To be a slave to monsters was bad enough, but here he was trying to strip away the last few remnants of humanity she had left. "It means," she replied, regaining some of the venom she had possessed before, "that you're rather bad at making choices."<br/><br/>Though the stranger may not have known it, she had acquired a bit of a reputation within the castle as one of the more-unruly slaves since being brought there as tribute from an isolated farming village three years ago. She had learned how to toe the line, showing just enough deference to avoid being outright killed, but making it obvious that she had no intention of being the obedient, biddable cattle they expected their human servants to be.<br/><br/>Then again, perhaps he was well aware of the fact--maybe that was even why he had singled her out.