The slave ate willingly as he was fed, though he felt a deep stirring of unease throughout the process. He hated having anything done FOR him. He reflected to himself as she fed him that he would almost have preferred torture. At least he understood torture, the reason behind it, and the result from it.<br/><br/>when she checked the temperature of his feet, they were back to room temperature. He, however, had averted his gaze, trying to pull his awareness away from the uncomfortable situation. He didn't move or give a sign that he felt her touch on his feet. His toes curled and extended, flexed and stretched in slow, constant, uneasy motions, driven into motion by his growing unease.<br/><br/>He heard her give a command and finally looked back at her. A mage? He used his hands to pull himself upright on the bed a little more. He wasn't sure what to think of this development. Something at the back of his mind told him the event shouldn't have been as unfamiliar to him, but he had no conscious recollection of the previous event, and so could feel only growing unease.<br/><br/>The elderly gentleman was clearly a figure of authority, which he could tell from her deference to him. This was a formidable man. The slave felt his spine turn cold and hard, ready for the worst. He looked up at the man, calm settling over him at once. This, after all, was not at all unfamiliar to him.<br/><br/>He was given a chance to speak, which he had not expected. He thought for a moment, and finally decided there was nothing he wished to know badly enough to speak it. There was nothing inside of him that needed to be set free, and so there was nothing to say.<br/><br/>"No, sir," he shook his head gently, eyes calm and polite as he met the mage's gaze.