He jumps softly as the woman pulls up out of the water, inches away from him. Her frank curiosity is surprising, novel...most of the women seem to either care about a favorite, and them alone, or treat the slaves much as he once regarded his sheep - useful creatures, with their own identities, maybe, if he could remember which was which, and bothered to do so.<br/><br/>"No I...I do whatever work needs doing, and will sleep under any roof that will have me that night. I don't have a favorite, and..." he looks away, "seem to be noones." The insecurities behind that are obvious, if unspoken. Most of the village's warriors want someone to bring to heel, someone who will chafe and pull at their bonds, some virile captive to be broken and tamed. He's amusing for a night or so, timid, sweet and attentive, before their interest moves on, and he is discarded along with the remains of breakfast until the mood strikes again.