"No. The only thing you've been doing from the start is trying to bribe me into giving you what you want and to ease your own conscience about the fact that you won't give me what I want." Seifer countered in a matter of fact tone. "I get that I'm not getting my freedom any time soon. I figured that out the day I say I'd take the tattoo."
He leaned across the desk and grabbed Zell's shirt collar to pull the other up so they were as face to face as it could get as he looked the werecat dead in the eyes. "What you won't give me and are so snitty about not getting from me is respect. You don't think you have to give me any because I don't count as a person in your mind. I'm a thing. A status symbol and it eats at you that I won't treat you like some kind of fucking god like your little rose coloured world thinks I should." He growled out as he cut to the heart of the problem as he saw it.
"Guess what, Pretty Boy. Any person you bring back from that place that simpers and falls all over your every word isn't doing it out of fucking respect. They're doing it because they're a god damn broke shell of a person that's scare of you for what you are. They won't respect you anymore for who you are then you do for who I am. I am not a thing. I'm a fucking individual person as much as you are even if the law says I don't have the right to fucking live on my own anymore." If ever anyone had ever addressed Zell with such passion and conviction before, not anger, then hopefully some sliver of what was said would reach through that stubborn mind of his and strike a cord. How any supernatural could believe that their kind were the only ones to have complex emotions was a mystery for another day though.