Dhiate grinned sheepishly, loving the feel of her fingers in his hair. His eyes danced with happiness. He had thought that he'd been called for punishment, although he didn't know what for. As his fear vanished, he returned to his normal, happy self, a side he only ever showed for Amy. Despite what one might think, that he was like this to get on her good side, he genuinely felt a joy when he pleased Amy. For a reason even he didn't know, he liked Amy and he hoped she liked him.
His happiness vanished in an instant as he recoiled. Raoth! His own pretty face had just begun to snarl when Amy came to his rescue. He relaxed slightly, but remained on guard should the other slave try it again. He wasn't exactly sure why Raoth hated him. The only thing he'd ever done to make him angry was when they first met and Dhiate refused to set him free from his chains. That must be it! Dhiate was almost in the exact same position as Raoth, yet he never had to be tethered and he was almost never abused. Dhiate almost felt ashamed at himself, but he knew it wasn't his own fault. Simply the way the world worked. Dhiate never tried to escape, and so he was never chained. He rarely did anything that warranted a blow from Amy, and he was never beaten as Raoth was. They were on opposite sides of the spectrum.
Dhiate smiled at Amy when she turned to him. It was his own personal brand of gratitude. She kept Raoth from pummeling Dhiate and he was obedient. Not that he wouldn't be obedient had she let it happen, it just gave him the extra reason to be good. He was confused by her words. Gifts? As far as he knew, he had none. He stood rooted to the spot before he realized she had left. He scurried after her to catch up. When he was only a few feet behind, he dared ask "Gifts? I'm afraid I don't understand, Mistress." By now he had grown used to calling her by her title and used it without his previous hesitation.
When she stopped, he was so close he almost ran into her, grateful for once that his slender body was easy enough to stop. His stormy blue eyes looked into Amy's deep brown ones for a single instant before he lowered them. He was still a little unsure of his place and what he could or couldn't do. A light breeze blew the white ruffles of his shirt, the the loose black cloth that covered his thin legs. It blew his dark hair out of his face revealing the seldom seen right eye and the two scars that Amy had branded him with, marking Dhiate as hers.
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