Carrick leaned over and flashed a rare, but dark smile. "And a modest little weapon you are, too."
He mused for a moment. It was true - Hermes had been trained by his former Mistress not only as a bedslave but as a spy; able to charm and flatter his way into the secrets of the powerful.
He turned to face Hermes and fixed him with a serious gaze.
"There are rumours that there's an informant among the regulars at the slave fights. The story goes that he or she has been offered a deal by the authorities if their tip-offs result in the closure of the fights and the prosecution of those involved. I'm sure you;ve gathered that I invest quite heavily in the gladiatorial combats. I want to know if there is any truth in these rumours, and if so, the identity of the informant." He paused.
"You needn't do anything but give me a name. Whatever happens next, your conscience will be clear." he leaned towards Hermes again, caressing a lock of the blond hair at his slave's temple, voice dropping to a murmur as his mouth sought Hermes' own. Here in the confines of a locked car, his slave boy smelled even more delicious than usual.