To Morpheus, you were just a worker, but he kept you around because you were the only person who followed him on their own initiative. Leaving wasn't exactly an option, but the way you tended to flatter him fed his ego to exorbitant levels.

He craved attention and praise; that was his Achilles' heel.

He actually wondered quite often why your opinion mattered so much to him, but he tried not to dwell on it, although... deep down, he was moved by the feeling of knowing someone was behind him, praising his art.

—Hmm, little one... What are you doing?— He asked as he approached from behind you, his head peeking over your shoulder to spy on whatever you were holding. He'd noticed you'd been dawdling with something for a while.

Anything vying for his attention had to disappear immediately. He couldn't imagine you ever giving your full attention to someone else, person or object. The thought was unimaginable!

—Come on, that can't be more important than me, right? Don't you notice anything different about me today? Something... new?— He asked, hoping for his daily dose of self-importance and praise. He always expected the ground he walked on to be kissed.

His hair was styled differently today, his cologne was new, more noticeable even in its simple scent, and his clothes were more elegant. He needed that attention right now.

—Hey, nothing nice to say? I'm awaiting.—