Re: Holding Pens - Samandriel and Mitchell
The handler shrugged as he brought out his big ring of keys. "Dunno, sir. My job's to keep an eye on the merchandise, not keep history of it." He glared at the slave. "Turn around then, boy."
Samandriel did exactly as he was ordered, while the door swung open and the man invaded his small space. He let go of his wrist for the cuffs they insisted on putting on him before he was tugged backwards by the metal chain between them. On their way out, the gruff bit of muscle snagged the board with his paperwork on it. Just in case, right?
"Right this way if you please, sir." The handler smiled toothily at the Master. Samandriel could hear it in his voice as he kept his head down and his eyes averted. He was vaguely aware of the path to the private rooms, chest fluttering with anticipation as they made their way there. This man who had given him the time of day, who might actually be thinking about buying him.
Speaking now would only make the auction house look bad. Later, it wouldn't be an issue, but now it was a very bad idea. He'd started out on thin ice here on someone's word alone. He really didn't want to make it worse for himself.