[ she's half-expecting a lecture, or a rebuke, or a threat to send her back to the menagerie. but instead, he carefully makes his way over to her, taking a seat. the movement isn't graceful, or quiet, given his leg and the cane, but inej is surprised he bothered to come up here to . . . what, have a conversation?

the question also surprises her, and inej exhales into a breathy laugh. there's no mirth in her tone, as her gaze remains fixed on the city. ketterdam is almost beautiful, from up here, with sparkling lights and laughter peeking through the dark alleyways. little blips of happiness in an otherwise miserable place. ]

Have you ever been to an auction? Not for weapons or jewelry or paintings, but for human beings.

[ she doesn't bother waiting for his response, and instead she glances toward him, her jawline set, eyes hardened. she remembers the first day she met tante heleen. the experience is burned into her memory forever. how she looked over every inch of her body, from her teeth to the soles of her feet. and how she was taken to the menagerie, and held down to be branded. and once her arm had healed enough to be questionably less prone to infection, she had been sold out for the night.

if the choice is be held down and humiliated and tattoo'd, or fight back and be sent to the menagerie, the third option is clear. ]

Yes. I would rather drown.