Hermes winced slightly with the conviction in Carrick's voice, still waiting for a blow that clearly wasn't coming.
He leaned into that touch, nose pressing against the palm of Carrick's hand as long as it lingered there. "You're fond of me," he said quietly, "perhaps fonder than you've been of a slave in centuries, but in the end, I am an exceedingly loyal, and at least currently pretty weapon under your command." He didn't presume any more than that. "Pride, perhaps, until recently. Disappointment at the moment. My place in the world, my worth, is as it has always been." If anything the suddenly shifted color of his hair made that even more clear.