Even Samandriel was aware of the pain radiating off of him at that question. He didn't want to think about what Mitchell might be aware of.
"Yes," he said softly, forcing himself to maintain his composure. He failed at that, feeling tears he'd refused to shed before this trickling slowly down his cheeks. It would have been a sign of too much weakness to the other slaves at the Auction House, perhaps even at the infirmary. "I am human." Not wanting to call attention to it, Samandriel didn't wipe his face. His fingers rested briefly, gently on Mitchell's stomach, a quieter mirror of the way the vampire had left him before.
Instead of lingering, he turned away. He didn't have very much left in the way of dignity and he wished to be able to keep it.