<span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">The slave was far too bold, far too outspoken for Zyliel's liking.He wouldn't have called the man crass or even rude, but his forwardness certainly made him seem so. In Akros, that kind of behavior would have warranted a turn beneath the lash. Nothing terribly excessive, just enough to remind him of his place should he have thought to step beyond it again. Slaves in Akros did not step out of line without expecting some kind of retribution, for though they were not necessarily low enough to be pulling plows through the fields, they were certainly not first-class citizens, much less on the level of the Warchief's son.<br/>
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As such, Eras and his brazen attitude put him off. He sounded as though he considered himself an equal in some respects, yet his demeanor did not come across as overly prideful. Only... familiar. Too familiar for the liking of a man who greatly valued privacy and subscribed to the notion of elitism. Slaves did not speak unless spoken to. It was that simple. And for his part, Zyliel didn't care much for talking.<br/>
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Eras, in stark contrast, seemed to want conversation, if not for the sake of politeness then in the name of learning more about Zyliel's way of life. He supposed he couldn't exactly fault the slave for that. Life in Dusan was vastly different than in the Lieutenant's homeland, and though every instinct screamed for him to do otherwise, he reminded himself - as he was sure he would have to again - that he could not hold Eras to the same standards as he held his own servants.<br/>
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Once fully disrobed, Zyliel stepped into the bath and waded in to the level of his waist, enjoying the luke-warm temperature before sinking down to soak the rest of his body. So focused on relaxing his travel-weary muscles, he barely took notice of Eras again until the slave slid into the water with him. A brow raised, he observed as the man came closer, bearing a sponge that despite its rough texture was more than welcome, scrubbing away the accumulation of sweat and sand on his skin. But for as grateful as he was to feel clean again, he wasn't all that keen on sharing his bath with a perfect stranger. Just how liberal were these Dusanians?<br/>
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"Requests?" he echoed, watching almost warily as the slave touched him, working along his arms and his chest with all the ease of one who took to this task often. "None at the moment. My intentions while I remain here are to observe your culture and its customs without my influence where possible. That said..." He gave pause, his muscles tense. "Are all the slaves in Dusan quite as... <i>hands on</i> as you?" At this, he caught the slave's eyes. "I am not terribly accustomed to this degree of... involvement with slaves not of my own household. I may well have requested that my own accompany me to the baths, though at the moment I find their energy better suited to unloading the carriages and assembling my living quarters."</span>