Hermes frowned as Carrick spoke, as his fingers tried to comfort where he needed none. "My Mistress did not deserve the end that found her, but she had no true care at all for me." So why should he have ever for her? He was a pet. Nothing more. With Carrick, strangely enough, he felt like a person. "The child was something I never wanted for myself, someone I have never met and will never cross paths with and know her like anyone with any right to call themselves a parent should. I moved on from the woman my Mistress was before drink and clearly deserved paranoia changed her completely before I even entered your household. Whoever the child is, I have no need and no desire to mourn her, only to hope that her life is somehow easier than mine."
He looked up at his Master. "Why should I weep for a life that was merely surviving?" He stood smoothly, unable to be still any longer. "You wanted to know me, my lord." He shifted smoothly into a handstand again. "There's no me before there was you." He licked his lips and focused on the flex and shift of his own muscles while he found the exact centre he wanted. "Do you intend to wield the blade you bought, to hone its edges even sharper, or will you leave it in a scabbard in hopes it won't shred itself just as surely and quickly as everything else it goes up against?"