Anastasius turned his head to watch Masina walk away.  He licked his lips and shook his head to clear away the images that fluttered there... mainly of the treacherous amazon 'falling into his lap' as Azuriel had put it.  But mainly he listened.  To the slaves, to the words of Azuriel, to the quiet of his new compatriot, and most of all to the Reaver's steady work beyond.<br/><br/>He was tempted to move closer, to peer into that hot kiln room to see the man's craft.  But he stayed his ground and sipped his wine instead, dismissed but loath to be the one to break the silence that settled after that sound had stopped.<br/><br/>But he did after a few more heartbeats, reaching to curl fingers into the dark hair of the slave he'd petted.  He twisted his fingers into a fist, tugging at her soft locks and ignoring the chain at her neck, preferring the soft living leash of her hair.  "Time to be going slave," he said almost cheerfully.<br/><br/>"Would you be so good as to bring the other?" he asked Quintus in serviceable Latin as he shouldered his pack and tugged at Mohini's hair to begin drawing her towards the doorway of the shop.  His arm was low, holding her head at a height suitable only for crawling on her hands and knees.