Re: Holding Pens - Samandriel and Mitchell
That tone wasn't one he'd expected, something near hopeful. He winced at the sound of his new name. He lifted his head in response, blue eyes studying the man who was paying attention to him carefully. For a moment, he actually considered answering him. The moment, however, lasted just long enough for one of the handlers to cross the space over to them.
"Nah, don't bother with trying to get an answer outta that one," the man said. "C'mere, boy."
A sharp spike of fear ran through Samandriel, but he stepped forward anyway. Rough fingers reached through the bars and jerked down his ill-fitting collar. "See that?" A thick finger gestured to the precisely cut scar across the front of Samandriel's throat. "Tip your head up more, boy." He did.
"Y'see, he's been clipped. Won't be getting any lip outta that one." The handler let go of his collar and patted the slave roughly on his cheek like he was daring him to step out of line with a customer present.
Miraculously, Samandriel managed to resist the urge to bite the man, merely took a step back again and lowered his head once more. He didn't like attention being called to that particular scar. The other two, fine, but not that one.
"If you'd like a closer look at 'im, sir, I'd be happy to let you."