"So, what do you like to do for fun?" he asked me. While he paced around my bedroom, I sat cross-legged on my bed. 

   It was my first day having him as my servant, and I'm not so sure of how to act or feel. 

   We could be actual friends, I keep thinking to myself, over and over again. Not a tutor, not some political figure, and not just another worker here. Someone my age.

   "I like to draw some," I reply, finally. "I'm not very good at it, though." My voice feels tight, and I'm scared I'm speaking too low. 

   "Really?" he asks me, turning around to face me. His sapphire blue eyes lit up with interest, and I feel heat start to creep up my neck. 

   "Can I see?"

   "Okay," I replied as I got up and pulled out my sketchbook from the nightstand and sifted through the pages until I found one I liked. It was a picture of a bird drawn in charcoal, its wings spread out as it flew.

   "You actually made that?" he asked me, and I nodded, brushing hair from my eyes. "I wish I could draw like that. How do you do it?" I shrugged and muttered a word of thanks, heat blooming across my face as I snapped it closed and put the book away. 

   "What do you like to do?" I asked.

   "I mostly play the guitar- my dad teaches me when he isn't at work. I sing as well, which my Mum teaches. She's actually a music teacher, too, at a school nearby." He returned to pacing back and forth. He was restless, as if his air flowed with energy. I watched his movements, careful and smooth. 

   Maybe this is the start of something. Maybe not. But regardless, the thought of his contract still makes my chest tight, and my nerves on edge. 

   I shake my head. I won't have to worry about that for a while.

   At least, not for now. 

❊