Faboo

When I informed Maxwell that I needed a slave, he seemed all right with the idea. When I further informed him I needed a male slave, he was less pleased. But he got over it when I let him do the purchase, and so Faboo entered my life.

What can I say about Faboo? Plenty! He's a bred slave, as docile as a caged bird really, a little saucy but intelligent. He is wonderful with colors and designs and has proved invaluable to the business, besides just for the heavy lifting which is why I needed him. Crates of thread and bolts of cloth weigh so much! I suppose it is a little odd how cleverly he can consider clothing, and I swear the kajirus is more vain then any kajira I have ever met, and there is the matter of how he talks, and the way he will put his hands on his hips, and too the time he begged for a silk addition to his tunic....

But no matter! At least it will quell any rumors infringing upon my propriety! He is actually Maxwell's slave, and he does not reside with me, as Delilah does, but he shows up at the sixth bar every morning and opens and prepares the shop for the day. I hope Max doesn't keep him in a kennel and at least occassionally tosses him a kajira to use...might help fix his little problem, with a girl to, you know, and what not.

He and Delilah seem to get along very well. He likes the girl, and laughs frequently with her, calling her "too cute" and other tendernesses. I should probably put a stop to that sort of thing, but since it doesn't impede my work and since I'd rather a pleasant atmosphere then a tense one, I don't really see it as a problem.