It made sense that Hermes would deliberately seek out and choose an ancient counterpoint to his own cleverness and cunning. It was a rare occasion that a slave of their caliber saw the inside of an auction house for anything other than the sale of their services for a night or two, but when they did there was always the risk of being purchased by a master or mistress who only wanted them for decorative purposes. Alcuin could only imagine how destructive the fae could be in the wrong hands. There was a good reason why they were not for everyone.
“I have reason to suspect that my Anafiel chose sparingly not out of restraint but out of fright for what we would get up to while he was away,” Alcuin laughed then – a bright and melodic sound – at the memories of his poor henpecked master restoring order with a smile in his eyes, no matter how stern the face. “Quand le chat n'est pas là, les souris dansent...”
The memory, like so many other things in life, blazed bright behind closed eyes for but a moment and then it was gone. “Friends are better than enemies. Especially if they are as persuasive as you think they are. There is no telling what the two of you could get up to while the cat is away. Only, take care that the cat does not catch you...” His expression was solemn. “I know somewhat about what that is like.”