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"Your... 'property?' My 'master?' 'Carry your drinks??' 'Thrall!??'" Mithias voice began to raise slightly as he went on. He had to stop walking; he was so livid. It was unbelievable how arrogant his sire was. He sneered in disgust... and crushing disappointment at his father's cluelessness. "I didn't come here to serve you. I came here, because, you're FAMILY!" Gabriel turned around to see an unexpected fire in the boy's eyes and a fist that itself clenched around a real, hot flame. Fangs bared, Mithias straightened, lowering his hands and putting out that flame he didn't intend to reveal. He glared at Gabriel extremely disapprovingly. "And here I find that the word means nothing to you. Your arrogance is boundless!" He said with an exacerbated gesture. 

He came back with a pointed finger. "I really wish you could read my mind, because without your power, you are clearly inept! Don't you think I thought of that? That serving you, another master, ANYONE would be nothing but repeating the same mistake?!" He growled and huffed sharply. "You don't know me in the least." The two stood apart. If pain and tension were heat, the pavement would have been melting. "I sought to know you, Gabriel, of my own volition. I wanted to. I chose to." He gestured again. "I have always felt for you, and I thought that if you saved me, it was because..." Mithias stopped. He pursed his lips and shook his head, trying to deny the thought he knew wasn't true. "I'll never know why you saved me." Those golden eyes bore a touch of sadness amidst the fury. "Whatever keeps you going, old man, take your secret with you into eternity. You're a lonely and empty spirit who's heart burned out long ago. I see now there is nothing I can learn from you nor give to you." Mithias went to put his hand on Gabriel's shoulder. If Gabriel tried to dodge, he'd roughly grab his collar and force him to face him. "As of this day, I am absolved of my debt to you. Don't save me again, and if I see you... Just don't ever let me see you." If Gabriel had been confrontational, Mithias would shove him back and down away from him, indicating that he could have killed him. If not, Mith just silently said goodbye and backed off.

Mithias Varomere now had the answers he needed, that his maker was a frivolous and spoiled child, that he had been on his own all this time, and always would be. He had never been wanted, planned for, or watched over. Such an idea was an embarrassing fantasy of youth. It was time to return to the path of a rhonin, as before, but with half the heart.