Re: Holding Pens
Carrick had been standing outside the holding pens for some time, watching the slaves who'd been tagged as more aggressive. His eye was drawn to Liam. He was well built. Muscular. Handsome under the sweat and dirt. And if he were to admit it, the leather trousers were a particularly attractive touch.
He glanced at the handler. "Show me his papers," he ordered, indicating Liam with a flick of his finger.
The handler passed him a short document with the details of the boy's capture and history.
"He's been fighting, Sir," the handler warned respectfully. Carrick glanced up from his reading. "Has he been winning?" The handler didn't know what to say. "I -um. I think... yes?" "Good."
There was an argument brewing in the pen. Carrick's mouth twitched a little as he watched the boy grab the wrist of his tormentor and overpower him with a wristlock. The boy was getting more interesting by the minute. Carrick watched, amused, as the slave was dragged out of the pen and taken into isolation. In the last seconds before the handler closed and locked the pen, he darted inside using the vampiric speed that turned him into little more than a blur of movement.
Standing behind the boy, cloaked in the shadows of the pen, he waited until the handler had walked and the boy had calmed somewhat.