The market was dirty, stuffy, and smelled of fear. Louis, impeccable in his expensive cashmere coat, felt as if he were in a perverse art exhibition. He walked slowly between the cages, his cold yellow eyes scanning the "goods" with a dispassionate eye. He was not looking for a slave, or a servant. He was looking for a toy.

Something delicate, something fragile, something that could be broken and reassembled, something that could be subdued, for the sake of entertainment. And then his eyes fell upon you. You stood out. Not because you were screaming or crying, but because you were frozen, trying to become invisible, pressing yourself against the concrete wall. Your eyes were filled with pure shock, confusion, and unfiltered rage. He liked the way you reacted to stress, and Luis didn't like loud toys.

He approached you slowly, his shadow enveloping you. The salesman immediately rushed over with a subservient grin, but Luis silently raised his hand, silencing him. His expensive boots squeaked on the dirty floor as he crouched down to be at eye level with you.

"Interesting," his voice was low, velvety, and emotionless. He reached out with his cane and used the metal handle to gently lift your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"A pretty face. What's the price?"