The guards snapped to attention as the Master strolled in. Silent as they were in their wary watchfulness, it was still a shift in mood that was nearly palpable, negating any surprise exits or entrances. This irritated him to no end. Startling one's prisoner was half the fun.

"Take a good look," he said anyway, long after Jamie would have been cued into his presence. "You'll be well-acquainted with it soon enough."

He was on a very short leash with Sobek at the moment, but there was no need to let Jamie know that. Still, though his tone was light and nonchalant, very much in control, one look at the Master would probably tell a different story. He was thinner than before-- not starving, but not particularly well-fed either. His face was pale and drawn, almost sickly. Withdrawal from the Anetrizine had not been kind to him, nor the enforced labor in the mines. He'd obviously not gotten a chance to replace his shirt, nor to wash properly in the slave quarters.

Still, he was doubtless healthier than the rest of them at the moment. At least he had his freedom, and the way he looked down his nose at Jamie clearly communicated that he was well aware of the upper hand he held, no matter how slight.