The Master and her Blood Slave

"If I'm going to say something that will only anger you, why say it at all?" he questions honestly, "You want me to be a good slave, but you want me to speak my mind? That doesn't make much sense. You 'own' me now, so all you'll honestly want to hear is what pleases you right? So I see no need to tell you what's on my mind if it's only going to cause repercussions that aren't in either of our favors."

He speaks with an expressionless tone, though it isn't particularly flat in its quality. Honestly, Razzle just wants to be frank and treat this as if it were a business transaction. Why make it into something more? He didn't want to share his life with this woman, so he would just make his exterior something she could play with while he figured out a way to escape.

Jenevieve rolled her eyes.

"Yes technically I own you. But I'd hardly call you a slave. More like an employee under contract. You give me your blood, and I give you a mansion. So as long as you respect my rules then everything will be fine Razzle." She explained, talking to him as if he were a spoiled child.

"Then I'll adhere to those rules, but I still don't know why you'd even care what I think. It's also a little hard to be an employee under a contract I didn't have the choice to sign," he says, trying not to sound condescending, "Which unto itself sounds a little bit like... Slavery?"

He scratches the back of his neck and looks over to the side, feeling frustrated, but he doesn't let it consume him.

"Ideally it wouldn't matter if I were living in a box or a mansion... I just want to be able to have the freedom to control that. It's not really living if you don't have your own control, that's just breathing in someone else's life."

"Well then in that case a box can be arranged." She said, her tone snooty. She had had enough of his 'ingratitude'.

And with that she turned to walk away, wanting to go find company that wasn't such a downer. She'd like to have a word with Smiley in fact, ask him a few questions as to how he found the moody immortal.

His eyes follow her as she leaves and once he is alone in her room he rubs his temples, a pain in his head from all of the frustration he feels. Razzle lets out a sigh and leans back against the bed. His words will probably cost him much comfort, but he's spent nights in dungeons getting his appendages ripped off. What could be worse than that?

A lot actually.

He shudders at the thought and buries it down into his subconscious, letting his mind drift off for awhile longer. Anytime he could think to himself by himself he would take. His life was about to dissolve into that of a sadistic vampire woman, to lurk under the shadows until an exit could be found. Nothing would come in the way of his freedom. He promised himself that then and there before drifting off into a light slumber.