Stepping inside the store, Khero couldn't help it.
Her jaw dropped, and her eyes lit up with amazement.
The place may not have been selling the fanciest things, but they were fancier than anything Khero had worn since...gods knew when. All her clothes had been secondhand, dug out of rubbish heaps and worn until they were threadbare and patched up, again and again, when they could be repaired. All her shoes she'd worn until they had holes in the soles, and most of the time she'd gone without.
She got to pick things out? Whatever she wanted?
And then, abruptly, she caught herself--caught herself getting sucked in, getting excited about this! For one split second, she'd forgotten that she was a slave, bought and owned, and this dragon-man wasn't actually a friend. He owned her. And he'd let her know that one day he hoped to bed her.
The excitement in her eyes quickly died, and she cleared her throat awkwardly and gave her "master" a nod and a forced smile. "Thank you," she said. "I, ah...wow. Not really sure where to start. I've never gotten to do somethin' like this. Let's see..."
It was awkward, balancing her own anger over the situation with the genuine gratitude she felt that she'd, at the very least, gotten purchased by someone that, so far, seemed kind. She still wasn't ready to drop her guard, though; it could be a public facade, and it was always best to prepare for the worst. Still, she moved to examine the fabrics and already made items, feeling almost guilty to touch them, since it had been some time since she'd had a bath.
Finally, though, she returned to her master with an armful of clothing: three long skirts of various colors, with intricate, embroidered patterns along the hems, coupled with bodices and long-sleeved shirts that could be worn with the bodices. She held them out to him, eyebrow quirked in question.