Master was very poor. 

It was a secret the two of them shared, for neither liked to mention it. Master was making the best of a bad situation, and the last thing it wanted was to make that harder. Still it was a pity, and Pet was making sure to make it as easy as possible so Master would not find anything lacking, regardless. 

Still, it was a harsh change to get used to. Master couldn’t afford chains: the only restraint available in the household was a large, soft piece of fabric Master would wrap around it on occasion, especially during the evenings. Whenever this happened, Pet would make sure to stay extra still, so it wouldn’t fall off. This was because Master didn’t seem to know how to tie any knots, but that was O.K. Pet didn’t need them to be restrained, to hold still. It already knew what Master was asking of it. 

A harder adjustment for Pet to make was its lack of a room. Master’s house was too small to hold an attic or a cellar, and every closet needed to be stuffed with clothes and boxes, no room for it. There was no cage either, no hooks on the wall to attach leashes, not even so much as a simple collar. Instead, Pet was left to sleep on the couch, where it was high up and isolated, but not hard or cold enough to enforce any real discipline. It had tried to remedy this the first few days by sleeping on the floor, but Master hadn’t liked that. Of course, of course, it should have known. It should have known better than to assume it knew more or knew better than Master. Poor Master was probably ashamed that this was the best he could offer, and Pet’s job was to ease those fears. Because it was enough, anything they had was enough for it; there was no other choice. 

Mealtimes where also a point of pity. Master had only the means to cook one meal, and both he and Pet ate the same fare. That made sense; Previous Master had always complained about how expensive pet food was getting, and as such its rations were always cut severely. If Pet could have opinions…it liked this way better. This way they both had enough to eat, and all Master had to give up was his pride. That was…less good. Pet didn’t like the idea of Master having to give up anything, especially not for the sake of it.

 But Master had lived this way long enough to not seem to care; nothing phased him. He would smile and laugh as he ate, and hum while he cooked. He didn’t seem to care that he didn’t have the right tools to properly house a pet. Pet tried not to care either. 

But sometimes, it was just so hard! No whips, no canes, no shock collars… And anything that did lie around the house like broom handles or belts were so few and far between that it was probably not worth it to get its filthy blood on them and have to wash it off later. Master didn’t have the right gloves to hit it with either, and any discipline used was only a stern tone of voice. Sometimes Pet wondered if that was truly enough. Was Master happy, only being able to punish it like that? Compared to everything else Master could do to it if he had the right funds, it seemed very boring. But that was only Pet’s thoughts, and it already knew that its thoughts were worth less than Pet itself. Master was poor, that was it. Too poor to afford rage, or hate, or harshness. Probably because if Pet got hurt, it would be too expensive to replace. 

But still, late at night, when Pet couldn’t sleep, it would try to understand Master, even though such thinking was probably too hard for it. Still it tried. Because there was one thing that didn’t make sense, no matter how hard it pondered. 

…If Master was so poor, why didn’t it sell off Pet to make more money? 

@wolfeyedwitch @cupcakes-and-pain @extemporary-username look this thing

Is there a taglist for this and can I be on it?

I can’t resist…

He didn’t know why Pet acted this way. To be fair, he had precious little time to do any research prior. His city had all but dumped him on his doorstep the second he signed up to be a volunteer. He hadn’t realized that this was what that meant.

Pet always stiffened up when he wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, like he wasn’t allowed to touch it. He’d tried handing it to him, letting him wrap it around himself on his own, but it didn’t seem to quite…click.

His next idea was to try a sweatshirt instead. That might make it easier to understand.

It was always a shot in the dark, what would make sense to Pet or not. He started keeping a notebook of their bizarre interactions, so hopefully he could find a pattern eventually.

Sleeping on the couch was probably the most success he had made, and even that was rather shoddy. Pet had offered to sleep in the attic or basement, but seemed terrified at the idea of sleeping on the couch. He’d told him honestly that he didn’t have a basement, nor an attic that could be used to sleep in.

It seemed like that made him even more desperate to show how little space he could take up, because his next suggestion was a closet. He went around and showed Pet all the closets in the house, all far too small to lay down in.

Still, that night, he found Pet curled up at the bottom of the smallest one, swearing there was room. He’ll admit, he lost his temper for only half a second.

He ordered Pet out, and to sleep in the living room. As he scrambled to obey, he caught himself, apologizing and offering a bullshit excuse that there would be boxes that needed to go in there. (He pulled out all the empty cardboard boxes he could find out of the recycling and filled each closet to the brim that night while Pet slept)

Pet then tried to sleep on the floor, which completely blew any previous theories out of the water. He had thought that Pet had wanted to be hidden and out of sight, but if that were the case, he would have at least taken the back of the couch over nothing, right?

Again, he slipped up a bit, speaking far too sternly to someone already so easily frightened, but now at least he was sleeping on the couch.

He had bought an air mattress, but until he could figure out what sleeping conditions Pet was seeking, he’d wait a minute. It was easier to try new things when Pet had had at least a few hours of good sleep.

Food was another one that he had made more progress on. It seemed like he expect to be forced to eat on the floor, but accepted the chair a bit easier once he suggested that the floor wasn’t sanitary to eat off. He had also seemed surprised to be given food, and triple checked that he was allowed to eat it.

But he had eventually accepted it, thankfully, and now meals were a decently easy routine, if not for the odd feeling he still had that he was missing something. There had to be a pattern, but he still couldn’t figure out what it might be…

It seemed like both were dancing around the other, cautious of any misstep. But they would get there. Eventually. Hopefully.