playing by the golden rule

ooc. really sorry for the wait I forgot about this thread ;-;

At the very least, the Warlord was good at faking an interest in whatever was going on. When asked about the reasoning for the soup, he shrugged lightly and shook his head. "I've missed eating cooked meals, after so much time spent living on scraps. The sea is very rich here, and the resources are available for me to dabble." he admitted with another gentle shrug of narrow shoulders, keeping his tail tucked close to his hip and ears tipped back respectfully. When the Warlord assured him that it was all well and good that he was taking an interest in culinary arts, and offered up a test subject in need of some 'plumping up'. The turn of phrase was familiar, and he wondered who exactly needed to put on weight. He hadn't seen anyone particularly starved lurking about, aside from himself. Putting on weight had never been an option in the past, and at this point he wasn't sure it was even possible.

And then the other shoe dropped, inevitably. The Warlord asked after the princess, and seemed less than pleased about the lack of progress in her physical state. Clearing his throat lightly, the dark furred slave kept his expression carefully neutral. Cast his gaze to the Warlord's paws, stayed as still as possible. Any unnecessary movements would only increase the odds of being hurt in some way. "I... I am not certain, Warlord-sama." he began hesitantly, keeping his tone even and soft. "We are out every day for training, and her endurance has improved, as well as her skill." he offered next, daring to risk a lightning quick glance upwards to gauge the titan's reaction. There wasn't any point in running, this was the large male's territory and there was nowhere he could feasibly hide forever from his ire. Instead, it was best to be pragmatic, grovel a little, and pray for the best outcome. "Despite the extra weight, she is not in terrible condition. She can hold her own well enough, all considered." the sunset dappled male offered with his gaze once again firmly locked on the Warlord's ivory marked paws. And there it was, the final admission of failure that he was trying to wrap up in a neat bow. How hard would the first blow fall? Enough to wind him, or knock him unconscious from the get-go? Losing consciousness tended to make beatings easier.