"I'm Amora" she muttered, hardly audible as she plopped back down in the chair, almost getting swallowed up by the puffy furniture. She put her hand on her head, trying to think without the freaky people getting on her nerves. Running didn't seem to be a good idea from what the demon had said, guards literally everywhere and willing to send her back to the hellhole of an auction house. Maybe then she wouldn't be sold to someone more 'gentle' than most demons.<br/><br/>On the other hand, staying here didn't seem as bad as she thought, unless she missed something. She would get food, something that was a mere luxury back at the auction house, and that was only if the slave pleased the slaver, something she was never willing to do. The demon didn't seem particularly interested in making her life any more of a living hell, which was always a plus, but Amora was certain he was hiding something.