When the sun is setting, Chris appears in the living room carrying a bag of sushi.

He pushes the binder forward and gives Chris his full attention. 

Chris unpacks the bag. 

"When you are in service, depending on your master's preference, you may serve him at dinner, eat separately, eat with the other slaves, or eat sitting on the floor. But I shall have you eat with me. Tell me what you learned this afternoon."

"I was able to read through section II.4 —" and he summarizes the sections, includes the notes he'd made on which positions he probably won't be able to do; he mentions a potential alteration once, and gauges Chris's expression to see if he should continue to do so. 

"It is an important aspect of service to take initiative when you think your master wants something."

He'd been half-expecting to be told that was presumptuous. He's glowing, just a little bit, at Chris's smile. 

He looks softer after that, more relaxed; his voice is less clipped. 

Goddammit, he is like Robin. That is inconvenient. 

How are his table manners?

He's mirroring Chris in terms of formality; he gestures marginally more when he's relaxed but mostly he's still. He has a habit of covering his mouth when he opens it. 

"Don't cover your mouth when you open it."

"Yes, Chris." 

He keeps lifting his hand and putting it back down again; after the fifth time he does that he looks visibly annoyed at himself for a second before his face clears. 

"Bend over the table. Away from the food, please."

He does. 

"Count."

Chris punches him in the meaty part of his shoulder. Not hard; it won't be painful, it will just knock the breath out of him. 

"— one." 

He hits him four more times in quick succession, aiming for different parts of Marlo's upper back. 

"After you are punished, you say 'thank you, Chris.'"

He nods. "Thank you, Chris." 

"Good boy. You took that well."

"Thank you, Chris," he repeats, in a different tone. 

(He's glowing again.) 

"Eat." Chris sits and follows his own instructions. "I am in charge of disciplining you. I will punish your faults when I see fit. I do not appreciate having to interrupt my meal because you cannot control your annoyance at your imperfections. Are we understood?"

He blinks twice. "Yes, Chris." 

He sits down. He eats. 

After dinner, Chris says, "After dinner each day, you will take your accumulated punishments. You will have an hour of free time, less the time it takes to punish you. You may lie down and rest, go for a walk or read any book in the house. You may ask permission to do some other form of recreation. After your free time, today you will study. You will go to bed at 9:30. You have a cot at the foot of my bed where you will sleep. You will not leave your bed until 6 a.m. unless you have a physical need to do so. When you wake up, you will not speak unless spoken to. You will prepare my coffee and stand at attention until you are needed."

Nod. "Yes, Chris." 

He hasn't been given permission to ask questions, so he doesn't ask how Chris likes his coffee. Probably Chris will tell him in the morning in any case. 

"Milk, no sugar."

…huh. 

Another nod. "Yes, Chris." 

Then Chris will curl up on a corner of the couch to write something out longhand.