The merman stared blankly at his captor. He kept a steady, blank stare, as if he could see right through the rokea. As if he could see right through his muscles, past his bones and veins, and could see into his heart, deeper and darker than the great ocean. He was thinking about many things. Why was it so... so... warm? And he felt like he would shrivel up at any moment. Up against the hard deck of this strange, dry area, he felt lost. He didn't like the tingling feeling of the salty breeze against his skin. 

He thought he could escape, but one look at the man identified as 'Rus', he realized that running wouldn't be a good choice. The rokea had caught him once- he could easily, easily catch him again. Not only that, but the merman was in no condition to run with these legs. Though he couldn't recall ever using his legs, it was possible he had before. He couldn't remember when he was younger. As the centuries wore on, he had buried his unnecessary memories and kept only the ones vital to survival. Strangely, no thought of attacking the other ever came to him. Slowly, he spoke. Though his words were confused and awkward, they somehow were laced with smoothness- as if he had dipped his voicebox in sugared frosting.

"Name?" He didn't need a name, didn't have one. No. He had... at one point. But for some reason, he could only lick the memory and not devour it. Suddenly, he recalled something he had loved. It was round, and carried him high into the air. There was the sour tang of a pomme- an apple, on his tastebuds as he thought about it. Though he wouldn't realize what an apple was. He did however, know what he would like to be called. Grey eyes sparkled as their owner smiled warmly. "F- Fuh... Ferris? Uh-hum. You can... call me Ferris." 

For someone that was just captured and had nothing but a towel to cover him up, he didn't really seem to mind. Though the rokea's question made his furrow his brows in confusion. "You... can't take me. I belong to the ocean." He responded calmly, and as if it was a fact.