An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 5/?
Fandom: Persona 5, Persona Series
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Summary: The journey into Sae's casino of jealousy didn't quite end up how the phantom thieves planned it. Everything was going so well until that police ambush. But, regardless of how it happened, now the Phantom Thief is doing his best to give the rotten adults the silent treatment... but something about all of this isn't quite right.
okay! i wrote this a couple months ago and came across it when i was rereading some stuff, and decided to post. idk if i'll write anymore for these characters but i might try to!
CWs (let me know if i missed any): slavery universe, police interrogation, threat of torture, brutality, manhandling, seizure, threat of rape. (he gets called kid a lot, but is 18)
(Also i know nothing about medical stuff or police. So.)
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Adler heard the door shut in the front room. He stepped away from the food he was preparing and saw Elaina walking down the hall.
“Hi, Miss Elaina,” he said. She didn’t answer, just kept going down the hall. “I made dinner, do you want some?”
“No, I’m not feeling too good. Thanks though, Adler,” she said. She shut her bedroom door behind her.
Adler stared after her closed door for a moment before going back into the kitchen. Was she slurring her words or was that his imagination? … No. If she needed his help, she’d ask him.
He busied himself with putting away the dirty dishes and setting aside a plate for his master when he got home. Maybe he should set aside a plate for Elaina too. He decided it would be worth the risk to ask. Even if she didn’t want any, he could probably get her some ibuprofen or water.
He was walking down the hallway when a muffled thump came from Elaina’s room. Adler froze and listened but he couldn’t hear anything else. He quickly went to her door and knocked.
“Miss Elaina?” he asked. There was no answer. A sick feeling began to settle in his stomach as he knocked again. “Miss Elaina are you okay?” Still no answer. He took a deep breath and pushed open her door.
Elaina lay unconscious on the ground, her head lolling to the side. Adler rushed to her and dropped to his knees by her head.
“Miss Elaina?!” He shook her shoulder, but it did nothing. “Please wake up, please!”
Oh gosh, what is he supposed to do? Call Master? No, there’s a number you’re supposed to call when people get hurt right? It’s short, only two or three numbers. It’s 19, or 99, or 991… 911!
Elaina’s phone was next to her, already open. Alder closed the page she was on and clicked on the phone icon. Numbers filled the screen and he dialed with shaking hands. It began to ring as he held it to his face.
“911 what’s your emergency?”
“Oh, uh, my-my master’s daughter passed out,” Alder said in a rush.
“Your master’s…? Oh,” the woman on the line said. She changed her tone when she spoke again. “Are you the only one home? Is your master there?”
Adler switched hands to hold the phone with. “No, it’s -- it’s just me and Miss Elaina.”
“Do you know the address of the house?” the woman asked. He could hear her tapping away on a keyboard.
“304 West Second Street,” he said.
“In Hallstatt?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Elaina began to move. Adler almost sighed in relief, but it caught in his throat when he realized that she wasn’t stirring -- she was seizing.
“Oh -- oh no! I -- I think she’s having a seizure! Wh-what do I do?” he asked. His heart pumped hard in his chest with panic. Oh, what was happening? What was he supposed to do?!
“Stay calm,” the woman directed. “Clear the area around her, and then turn her on her side. The paramedics are on their way.”
Adler put the phone on speaker and set it on the ground. There was nothing immediately around Elaina, so he went ahead and turned her onto her side, which was harder than he thought it would be, with her body tensed and convulsing.
“Okay, I did it,” Adler said. He kept a hand on Elaina’s side to keep her from falling back over. He could hear the sirens as the paramedics made their way towards him.
“The paramedics should be there any minute. Stay on the line with me and let me know when she stops seizing, okay?”
“Yes ma’am,” Adler breathed. Elaina stopped not long afterwards. “She’s stopped.”
“Alright. Stay on the line. The paramedics are on your street. When they get there, hand them the phone, okay?”
“Yes ma’am.” The front door opened and heavy footsteps got closer.
“You did a good job,” the woman said.
Adler sighed in relief as the paramedics came into the room, rushing to Elaina. He did a good job.
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After the EMT’s left with Elaina in the back of the ambulance, Master finally got home. Adler had called him a few minutes before when he was on his way home, and told him what had happened. Honestly, Adler was shocked that Master wasn’t going straight to the hospital.
Adler waited nervously by the door, his master’s footsteps getting closer. The door slammed open and Master had his hands on him in a second.
“What did you do?!” Master yelled, pushing him against the wall.
Adler cried out as his head hit the wall, the air knocked out of him with his master’s hands on his chest. “Wha -- Nothing! I didn’t do anything!”
“What did you do to Elaina?!”
To Elaina? Adler only helped her! He opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of a car pulling in the driveway made him stop.
Master smiled. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll have to answer to the police now.”
“To -- what?!” Despite knowing better, Adler began to struggle, pushing against his master’s grip. “Why?! Master why? Please, I -- I didn’t do anything!”
There was a knock on the door, and Adler’s head whipped around. He turned back to his master, pleading with his eyes. Please please don’t let them take me.
“Come in!” Master called with a smile.
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Adler folded his hands on top of the metal table. There was no clock in the room, but he was sure he’d been sitting there over an hour. No one had come in the room since he’d been brought there.
The police had come into the house and pinned him against the wall. He didn’t fight back against them, but he still had a bruise forming over his jaw where he was hit.
The door opened and a slave trainer entered. Adler tensed, straightening his posture. He thought he'd be questioned by an officer, not a trainer from a facility or auction house. He wished it was an officer. They had more rules. He put his hands under the table so the trainer couldn’t grab them. He sat across from Adler, staring at him and forcing him to break eye contact. Slaves aren’t meant to look their betters in the eye unless told to.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Adler stared at the table in front of him, focusing on controlling his breathing. He was trying to do everything in his power to not give the trainer a reason to hurt him. But he also knew that when when it came down to it, he was just a slave. And the man in front of him could do anything he wanted.
“So you hurt your master’s daughter?” the trainer finally asked.
“No, sir,” Adler answered.
“Look at me when I talk to you.”
Adler closed his eyes for a moment, and took a breath. He looked up. The nametag on the trainer’s chest read Miller. Adler quickly looked away from it and into his eyes.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said.
“I’m not lying, sir.”
“Listen, slave, the punishment for hurting a free person is bad enough, you do not want to add lying on top of it.”
“I’m not lying, sir,” Adler repeated. “I didn’t hurt her.”
Miller leaned forward suddenly, making Adler flinch. “Do you know what happens to slaves that injure free people?” Adler swallowed. “Why don’t I let you know? Slaves that injure free people -- their own masters no less -- have one of three things happen to them. The first is that they go to prison. Slave prison, where it’s full of trainers like me. Except most of them are a lot less civil than me. You look pretty well fed. That won’t happen in prison. You’ll get fed once every three days. Maybe four. It depends on the trainer in charge of you. Then every day you’ll either go to do backbreaking work, or you’ll stay in and be the trainers’ toy for the day. And I’m telling you now -- you’ll pray that you go to break rocks. I’ve seen trainers’ toys gutted, burned, raped, broken. Recovering from a broken femur bone in slave prison is hell. You don’t want that do you?”
Adler shook his head, his breath hitching. He knew that those things happened to slaves, but hearing it from a man who’d done those things himself and was threatening to do them to Adler? It made him sick.
Miller smiled. “I didn’t think so. So let’s look at the other options, yeah?
“The second option is that you’re sold off at a back auction. You know, to the people that run fighting rings and brothels. I’ve heard of a few poor suckers that had the unfortunate luck to be sold to psychos that used them for experiments. Cut parts of them off, rearrange their faces, things like that. Nothing good comes from being sold at a back auction, you know that?”
Adler looked down. He didn’t want Miller to see the tears gathering in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his waist, balling the fabric of his shirt into his fists to hide his shaking hands.
“Look at me.” Adler closed his eyes to hold back the tears. Miller suddenly slammed his hand on the table. “LOOK AT ME!” Adler jumped and forced himself to look back into his cold eyes. The tears fell down his cheeks, making Miller smile.
“Let’s talk about your last option hmm?
“The only other thing that could possibly happen to you, is you getting put down. Put to sleep. Executed. You get it, don’t you?” Adler didn’t answer, only took a shaking breath. “And let’s be honest, that one seems like the best option out of all of them right?”
No. All of them sounded like Adler’s worst nightmare. But the trainer was right, wasn’t he? There was no way they’d believe that he didn’t hurt Elaina. Adler knew the only reason they were interrogating him instead of sending him straight to the gallows was because of that law Master hated. The one that said that all slaves needed to confess to their alleged crime before they were punished for it. There were no cases of a slave being innocent or not confessing.
Because trainers really didn’t care. They’d just keep threatening or hurting slaves until they confessed to something they didn’t do just to get away from them. And now it was happening to Adler.
But he didn’t hurt Miss Elaina.
“So why don’t you tell me what you did now, and I’ll make sure you get that last option?” Miller said. He leaned back in his chair and smiled like he’d just gotten praise for a job well done. “We can spare you being unnecessarily hurt, and just get right to the end. That sounds good right? So tell me--what did you do to your master’s daughter?”
Adler closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Nothing. I didn’t touch her.”
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Two more trainers had interrogated him since Miller. They were getting more and more impatient and violent every time. The last one, a woman named Neisler, twisted Adler’s arm behind his back and threatened to break it unless he confessed. She was eventually called out from the intercom.
Adler was getting more and more desperate trying to convince them that he didn’t hurt Elaina, but every time he tried to tell them what happened, they accused him of lying and told him that he didn’t want to get punished for that on top of everything else he’d done.
He was sitting across the table from another trainer. Pask, his nametag said. He’d been sitting across from Adler for quite a while, not saying anything. It seemed like he was waiting for Adler to speak first, but he knew better.
Finally: “So why’d you do it?”
Adler wanted to cry again. “I didn’t,” he said miserably.
“Oh come on,” Pask said casually, “we all know you did. Just tell us why. Did she hurt you?”
“No. Miss Elaina has never been anything but kind to me. I’d never hurt her.” Adler looked at Pask’s eyes, too exhausted to care about the rules. He wasn’t yelled at for it.
“So would you hurt her if she’d been aggressive toward you?”
“No!” Adler said, with a little too much force. “I’d never hurt any free person! No slave in their right mind would ever hurt a free person!”
Pask took out his phone and stared at the screen. “Maybe you’re not in your right mind.”
He’d said it so nonchalantly that Adler almost missed the meaning of the words. But as soon as they processed, he felt cold dread fill the pit of his stomach. “Wh-what?”
Pask set his phone down and looked up at him. “Have you ever been called...unstable before?”
The panic that hit Adler was almost blinding. Before he knew it he was standing up, his chest moving rapidly with his heavy breaths. “What -- no! N-no! I’m -- I’m not unstable, I’m not!”
“Sit down.”
“I am not unstable,” Adler said desperately. “You have to believe that I’m not!”
“Sit.” Pask’s tone indicated that there would be no debate. Adler sat and wrapped his arms around himself again, his whole body shaking.
“I’m not unstable,” Adler repeated quietly.
“That’s not for you to decide,” Pask said. Then he left.
Adler slumped forward in his chair and rested his forehead on the table. He was hungry, and thirsty, and tired, and so, so scared. This couldn’t possibly be happening. It was bad enough that he was being accused of attacking a free person, but being accused of being unstable? That was a guaranteed death sentence. If he was declared unstable, then the trainers and police could stop bothering with the interrogation and skip straight to putting him down. He squeezed his eyes shut at the thought. If they would just listen to him then none of this would be happening.
But they’d never listen to him. And it was happening. And Adler was going to die.
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Detective Morgan watched the slave boy slouch against the table, all the fight drained out of him. He’d been in the interrogation room for almost six hours, being grilled by trainer after trainer with no results. Pask entered the observation room and stood next to him.
“I feel like we’re close,” he said.
“You’re wrong,” Morgan answered.
Pask rolled his eyes. “If he thinks we’re going to declare him unstable, he’ll confess to anything. That scares slaves.”
Morgan sighed. He hated trainers in the precinct, especially when they were interrogating slaves. They were cocky and needlessly aggressive. Morgan honestly didn’t even think this kid did anything. “But being declared unstable and confessing are going to yield the same results. He’s going to keep trying to get out of it.”
“Alright, well why don’t you do it? Go in there and talk to him,” Pask said, annoyed.
Morgan looked through the window at the boy. “I will.”
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The door opened and closed, heavy footsteps stopping in front of the table. The chair scraped against the ground as someone pulled it back and sat in it. Adler pushed himself up to see his new tormentor.
It wasn’t a trainer. It was a man who looked a good ten years older than the brash young trainers he’s been dealing with. He was in plain clothes, with nothing to determine his rank except for the badge hanging from his neck. He set a bottle of water on the table, which immediately stole Adler’s attention.
“You want this?” the man asked. Adler looked up with what he hoped was pleading eyes. Please don’t force me to confess to something I didn’t do for some water. Please. The man surprised him by sliding it across the table in front of him. “Here. Drink.”
“Thank you,” Adler whispered, taking it. He hadn’t had anything to drink for hours--before he’d even begun making dinner earlier that evening. Or the day before. He really had no way to determine how long he’d been there. He’d drained about half the bottle before the man in front of him spoke again.
“I’m Detective Cody Morgan. Can you tell me your name?”
Adler blinked, and realized none of the trainers who’d been in there before had bothered asking his name. “Adler,” he answered.
Detective Morgan nodded. “Adler. Listen Adler, I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly, okay? Because I don’t want to ask again.” Adler swallowed reflexively, fiddling with the lid on the water bottle. “Did you do anything to hurt that girl?”
Adler took a deep breath and looked up. “No.”
Morgan tilted his head. “All those trainers seem to think you did.”
“I didn’t. If they would listen to me, they’d know I didn’t.” It was daring to say, he knew that, but he was tired. And so sick of being there, and accused of something that didn’t happen.
“Tell me.” Adler looked up in surprise. Morgan’s face was relaxed, his pose non-threatening. He pointed to a camera in the corner of the ceiling. “I’m listening. Tell me what happened. Back up your claims. Say everything that happened from the time this started to the time you were put under arrest.”
Adler quickly recovered from his shock and began talking. “Uh, I was finishing making dinner--”
“Do you know what time it was?”
“Around six fifteen. Master gets home about six thirty every day, and he likes dinner ready. I was putting aside a plate for him when Miss Elaina got home.”
Morgan leaned forward. “Where was she?”
“I don’t know. She’d left the house earlier in the day, but I don’t remember what time.” Morgan sat back and indicated for Adler to continue. “She got home and I asked her if she wanted any dinner, she said she didn’t feel well and went to her room. A few minutes later I went to go see if she needed anything when I heard her fall. I knocked on the door, but she didn’t answer, so I went inside and saw she was unconscious.”
“What then?” Morgan asked.
Adler took a breath and continued, so relieved someone was actually listening to him, all his words were coming out in a rush. “I called 911 on her phone, and told them what happened. The operator said she’d send out an ambulance and paramedics. That’s when Miss Elaina started seizing.”
“When did the paramedics arrive?”
“I don’t know, just a couple of minutes after I called.”
“So you never laid a hand on Elaina?” Morgan asked.
Adler paused. “I mean, I turned her onto her side. The operator told me to. And when I first saw she was unconscious, I tapped her shoulder to try to wake her up. But that was it.”
Adler folded his hands on top of the table and exhaled. He’d been so desperate for someone to listen to him, but what if it didn’t mean anything? Would Detective Morgan ignore his story, and the way it wasn’t possible for him to have hurt Elaina? Would he still be declared unstable and sent to die? He held his breath and waited for him to speak again.
“So, you never hit her? Gave her anything?"
“I didn’t. She came home, went to her room, and passed out.” He took another drink of water. “Is...is she okay?”
“Hmm?” Morgan asked, like he’d been lost in thought.
“Miss Elaina. Is she alright?” Alder hadn’t really thought about her since he’d been arrested, but he was extremely worried. He knew seizures were serious. Was the reason he was being so forcefully questioned was because she was really hurt? Would she die?
“She’s in the hospital. Still unconscious. Last I heard, she was stable, though.”
Adler let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Good,” he said. Then: “When she wakes up she can tell you! She can tell you that I didn’t do anything!”
Morgan put up a hand. Adler fell silent. “That really won’t be necessary.”
His grip on the water bottle tightened. “Why not?” he asked nervously.
“Because I believe you.”
Adler’s eyebrows shot up. “You do?”
Morgan nodded. “Yes. I do. The trainers are just an angry mob -- they want someone to condemn. But there were no signs of struggle on Elaina, and no signs of her being hit. Your story matches with the timestamp for the 911 call. Plus, if you did hurt her, I don’t see why you’d call 911 at all.” He thought. “Unless you were unstable.”
“I’m not!” Adler said quickly. Morgan scrutinized him some more.
“No, I don’t think you are. You’ve been very reasonable.”
Adler slouched in his chair, relieved and upset at how his night had turned out. He crossed his arms, the muscles in his right shoulder pulling painfully. “Thank you,” he muttered.
Morgan stared at him for a moment before checking his watch and standing. “Alright. Well. It’s late, so I’ll have you stay the night. You’ll go home tomorrow.”
He sighed at that, some of the tension dropping from his shoulders as he stood up. “Thank you sir.”
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Morgan had put Adler in a small holding cell with a bed, and gave him another bottle of water and a sandwich from a vending machine, which he took gratefully.
“Okay. So your master should be back sometime in the morning. If I’m not here, then one of the officers will take you to meet him.” Adler nodded, sitting on the bed and eating. Morgan closed the door to the cell. “You did a great job cooperating, kid.”
As soon as he left, Adler wanted to collapse into bed. He was exhausted--both mentally and physically from the day. Morgan had told him it was a little after 1 o’clock in the morning, and he’d been awake since five a.m. He’d hardly sunk into the cot before he was asleep.
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Adler was awakened by the sound of the cell door opening. He blinked against the bright lights and rubbed his eyes. Morgan stepped inside with a bag in hand.
“Morning, kid,” he said. He handed Adler the bag, which contained two donuts and a chocolate milk. “Eat up.”
“Thank you,” Adler murmured. He usually never got breakfast, so one as good as this was a nice surprise. Morgan sat next to him on the cot as he ate.
“So, I have some bad news.”
Adler froze mid-bite, his stomach dropping. Oh no, was it Elaina? Did something happen overnight and now Adler was back under suspicion? He wasn’t sure he’d walk away from the interrogation room scott-free again.
“Your master doesn’t want you back.”
He swallowed his food thickly. “He doesn’t? W-Why not?” Adler could hardly hear Morgan’s answer over his own growing panic. Master didn’t want him back? Then what? Was he going to get sold again? Oh he hated auction houses so much. They were loud and scary and he was always hurt for getting returned. He’d really really liked Master’s house and he swore he would be good so why wouldn’t his master want him back?!
“He said he doesn’t feel like he can trust you to be in his house,” Morgan said. “So I’m taking you to the auction house as soon as you’re ready. Alright?” Oh gosh no it was not alright. Adler felt himself nod. “Finish eating, and we’ll head out.” Morgan patted Adler on the leg and left.
Despite the horrible dread filling his stomach, Adler forced himself to eat the rest of what he was given. He knew that he wouldn’t be fed until he was sold, and who knew when that would happen? He’d spent almost a week at an auction house once -- he’d known slaves who were there for longer. They survived off of scraps sympathetic browsers gave him. If he became one of them, then every little thing counted.
He took a deep breath and made himself get up and leave the cell.
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Morgan glanced at the kid in his passenger seat for the umpteenth time. He wondered if he gave him too sugary a breakfast -- he wasn’t looking too good. Morgan pulled into the parking lot of the auction house and turned off the car. He unbuckled and got out, but the kid didn’t.
“Adler?”
Adler jumped and looked up, like he’d just realized they’d arrived. He unbuckled his seatbelt with trembling hands and followed meekly behind Morgan.
“Hello, buying or selling?” the receptionist asked inside.
Morgan gestured to Adler behind him. “Selling.”
The woman wrote something down. “Alright, just let me scan his barcode, and I can send you back to talk to the auctioneers.”
Adler let the receptionist take his hand, and Morgan really noticed how badly he was shaking. The receptionist scanned the code on the back of his hand and they were sent through the back doors to the auction floor.
A few slaves were standing on the stage, but Morgan knew that most were kept in the back houses, waiting for their turn that day. A few early-risers were on the floor, bidding. Trainers were spread throughout the house, presumably keeping the slaves in check. Morgan noticed Adler’s gaze linger on the stage before he continued to follow Morgan as he searched for an auctioneer.
“Hello, can I help you with anything?” a young man asked. His nametag read Nate.
“Yeah, I’m selling him on behalf of the police department,” Morgan answered, pointing at Adler beside him. He hung near Morgan, but he was far enough away from the auctioneer that it was noticeable.
“Did he do something illegal?” Nate asked.
“No. it was a misunderstanding, but his master doesn’t want him back.”
Nate exhaled in visible relief. “Follow me and I can get everything down.”
Morgan glanced back at Adler as they began to walk to one of the desks lining the left-hand wall. He was looking more and more nervous as time went on, and Morgan worried he would try to bolt. But one look at the trainer guarding the desk area told him Adler would never risk it.
Nate sat and gestured for Morgan and Adler to do the same across the desk. He pulled out some papers and a pen. “Alright, what’s his name?”
“Adler,” Morgan answered.
Nate began to write. “What type of work has he done?”
Morgan looked at Adler and waited for him to answer. Adler cleared his throat and spoke softly. “Field and house, sir.”
“How many years did you do both?”
“I’m not sure how long I’ve been doing house. Most of my life, though. I only did field for three.”
After writing the information down, Nate furrowed his brows and looked up at Adler for the first time. “How old are you?”
Adler swallowed. “Eighteen.”
“Have you ever done any sex work?” Morgan felt his eyebrows shoot up. He watched Adler for his answer. He shook his head. “Hmm. I’ll put it on your file as an option,” Nate said casually.
Adler looked like he was going to be sick. He closed his eyes, his chest rising dramatically with a deep breath. It looked like he was trying to calm himself, but, based on the sweat beading on his forehead, it wasn’t working.
“Hang on, doesn’t he need to be a little older for that?” Morgan asked, trying to ease the situation.
Nate didn’t even look up from the papers. “No, he’s of age.”
Adler took a shuddering breath and opened his eyes, staring at nothing. Morgan worked his jaw. He wouldn’t consider himself anti-slavery but something about selling this kid, barely grown, to do who-knows-what against his will seemed wrong. Immoral. Illegal. His discomfort only grew the auctioneer continued getting information -- pulling out a measuring tape and taking down his height, directing him to the scales to get his weight. It felt like he was taking him to the gallows.
Finally everything was ready. Nate bid Morgan goodbye and took Adler away to the back houses. Morgan didn’t watch him go. He just left and sat in his car, feeling...gross.
He kept telling himself to put his key in the ignition and leave -- just leave. But he couldn't. The more he thought about how pale and shaking Adler was walking through the auction house, the more he felt like he couldn’t leave him there. He swore under his breath as he got out from his car, and went back into the building.
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Adler was pushed into the dark holding cell. There were already two other slaves there -- one boy who couldn’t have been older than eleven or twelve, and a girl who seemed to be in her mid-twenties. They were both in opposite corners of the cell, heads down. Adler took a free corner and did the same, trying to not think about what would happen to him later.
He’d be punished. The trainers always had the slaves punished for getting sold again -- for not doing a good enough job for their previous masters. Adler already had scars from his other trips to auction houses, and the thought of new ones being added made his hands tremble.
Footsteps sounded down the hall, and Adler put his head in his hands, waiting for the trainer to pass. But they stopped at the cell he was in, and the heavy door opened. He held his breath, hoping they’d go for one of the other two in the cell, but rough hands gripped his shirt collar and hoisted him up.
He bit his tongue to keep from crying out. Was he really being sent to be punished so soon? Adler trained his eyes on the ground, his breathing becoming more and more rapid. He waited to turn down the hall and into the punishment rooms -- full of whips and crops and restraints -- but they didn’t. Instead the trainer pushed him out the back door. Outside.
Adler blinked against the bright morning light, waiting for his eyes to adjust. When they did he saw Detective Morgan talking to the auctioneer they’d talked to before, who looked very upset. His heart jumped in his chest. Did his master want him back? Was Morgan going to take him back?
“Here,” the trainer said, pushing Adler forward gruffly.
Morgan gave him and the auctioneer a stern look before walking away, signaling Adler to join him.
Inside his car, Adler finally had the courage to speak up. “Did -- did my Master change his mind?” he asked, daring to hope.
Morgan put the car into drive and left the parking lot. “No. He didn’t. I did. You’re coming home with me.”
Adler felt his jaw drop. “I -- I am?”
“Yep.”
And before Adler knew it he was crying. He honestly didn’t even know why. He was just so exhausted from the interrogation, and spending a night in jail, and the fear of being sold again that when he heard he’d just be going home with someone who’d actually been nice to him, he broke. He put his head in his hands and tried to keep quiet, but he knew Morgan had already noticed. He put a hand on Adler’s back comfortingly.
“Hey, it’s alright. I know this has been stressful, but I promise I’ll treat you good, Adler.”
Adler looked up and wiped away his tears. “Oh I’m just -- thank you! Thank you so much, I promise I’ll do my best for you. I’ll be good and do anything you want me to, I promise!”
-----------------------------------
Morgan smiled. “I know you will, kid.”
He wasn’t exactly sure what he’d gotten himself into with this, but he knew one thing -- Adler’s life was about to get much better.
