The right thing for the wrong reasons

Lucretia was familiarly with Deathbelle's saccharine tones. The poor boy didn't quite know what he was in for, and he seemed young and foolish enough to fall under their Empress' spell. Was there a man alive who could withstand Belle's charms? Luce would certainly like to meet such a specimen and examine his brain for abnormalities. She nodded along as Belle laid out Nimbus' future in Ashen - it didn't seem such a terrible fate, and she tried to emphasize that with a somewhat forced, encouraging nod in the male's direction. If they were to share her den, she'd have to exhibit some level of hospitality.

Luce wasn't necessarily fond of the Klein tendency to keep slaves, but it was an undeniable fact of their heritage. It was something she stiffly tolerated, if they remained well behaved. The problem with slavery was that it bred resentment, and Luce hated thinking about any kind of dissent or ill will breeding in their ranks. It was just another kind of illness. "Come, come," she said simply, leading them back towards her den. If it was only his leg that was injured, it wouldn't be a difficult fix. The problem was keeping him calm as she began to work.