Some have it, some dont
Ahph Wixilan was no stranger to owning slaves. He has had years upon years of dealing with them: training, owning, breaking. All of the slaves he had were broken in one way or another. It was just his own way of doing things. He liked individual pets, ones with their own personality, but at the same time, were broken enough that Ahph himself could put together the pieces, glue them in the wrong spot or fix the broken glass into a whole new stained glass window. That was the fun part of owning slaves, at least in the Gordanian's mind. The complete control over a slave. It was highly intoxicating. But it had been awhile since he owned a slave, and while he was still confident in his firm hand, he knew that his possessiveness was there, rather dominant and front forwards. He couldn't help it. It was just one of the things that made him unique. He was someone who enjoyed pulling the strings, twisting the minds of slaves and making them interested in him, as much as he was interested in them. Maybe it was the reason why he had decided to grace the walls of the slave house. He wore casual Gordanian garb, which were the hides of animals once hunted and used for other amounts of necessity. The Gordanassi clans hardly wasted a thing from what they hunted, and even then, they still had plenty left over to store. This gave him a rather comfortable looking garb, even though it was made of tough and thick skin with a layer of rough hairs on it. The skin was oddly breathable, and rather flexible to allow various amounts of movement and abilities to be had. His green skin looked darker in the light of the warehouse, and he took his time as he casually browsed through slave after slave. As of yet, nobody had caught his attention. There was nobody here he was willing to be interested in, but when his eyes followed a young man pacing around his cage like an anxious animal, the Gordanassi stepped towards the cell and browsed at the information. He was a toy, one named James. The vital stats told him of things that he wanted to know, but he wanted to hear them from the slave, to see how he would react to physical contact or to face to face confrontation. He coughed as he straightened his back and let his bright blue eyes study the long, shapely legs that trailed up to a nice set of buns and a well defined back. He'd be a pretty pet, Ahph told himself, humming at the thought. He was a possessive little shit once someone got his interest. But he wouldn't buy with reckless abandon. If he was too much work, he'd pass along and find someone else. He liked a challenge, but there was a difference between a challenge that would require a little bit of breaking down, or a challenge that would involve a total deconstruction of the subject at hand. When he got the boy's attention, he gave a smirk, "Nice ass. I bet it'd look prettier naked. Why don't you give me a good strip show, Mr. Toy Boy." He wasn't ordering just yet. He just wanted to see how this James kid reacted to the statement and the potential order. Hell, he was hoping to get a reaction from the nickname itself.