...why couldn't you have learned from your father?

[He interrupts her bitterly, but if she truly knew him so well, she'd recognize that is once again not the sort of bitterness that preceded violence. He sounds frustrated, more than anything, listening to her speak of himself. He'd conceded that she knew him in some capacity, but knowing him was different. And she was talking as if knowing.

It makes him uncomfortable. It makes him uncertain, what to do, so of course he falls back on his ego.]

I am the sort of Servant that betrays. I would not look out for you, or your best interests. You are a tool to me, a means to amuse and nothing more. That is the sort of future that awaits as my Master, and you cannot deny that you have no control over it. I am a King, and you, quite literally, are a pawn.

[His grip tightens around her slender form. So small. So breakable.]

Give me an answer. A real one. Why do you have want of me? What purpose would a contract even serve?