Startled by the prince's first words, Asher lifted his gaze and unclenched his fist. Had his apology been that bad? His face displayed a mixture of confusion and hostility as he wondered what he had done wrong. It quickly deteriorated as the prince continued speaking, though he was still quite confused. He hadn't spoken to many of the nobles during his stay, but those he had talked to never displayed such raw emotion. His apology had somehow caused the prince to crumble before him, and he almost felt bad for taking some pride in that.

It wasn't until he met the prince's eyes that Asher understood. There was a deep sadness in those pools of blue, a sadness that Asher wanted to fully understand, though he wasn't sure why. This small display had gone against everything he had originally thought of royals. He had believed they were all boundlessly confident and arrogant, but his words had been the opposite. It crossed Asher's mind that he may be lying, but the prince had looked too vulnerable for that to be the case. One thing he was sure of was that he wanted to know just what the prince was thinking.

So, when he took a step back, Asher dared to step forward. "Why haven't you shouted at me or scolded me?" His voice was tenative at first, but he soon began to speak without thinking. "I drenched you in dishwater and disturbed you at an inconvenient time, yet you haven't been rude to me at all. You're supposed to get irritated with me, threaten to throw me back out on the streets, curse at me, [i]something[/i]. We may both be human, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm a servant and you're supposed to think of me as no more than a tool. So why don't you? What's so different about you?" Again, his rant had faded into mumbling, the last question said more to himself than the man in front of him. There was an intensity in Asher's eyes, fueled by curiousity and frustration, and he focused them on the prince.