"What, and with you not even house-trained?" Lenore asks, lifting her brows, a queen gazing down at a slave. She's fully aware that Gideon hasn't been given much opportunity. Days of travel to get here and clearly no one wanted to get close enough to her to help pull her pants down and back up or to give her enough leeway to do that herself. Probably not fed, either. Feral dogs are absolutely most dangerous when they're hungry, Lenore knows. But she also knows that they're easiest to tame like that.

Turning her head back toward the doorway, Lenore calls to some of the guards stationed at the mouth of the dungeons. "Bring a few buckets of water. She reeks."

She hears footsteps going off to do that. They're armor-booted, so not the quietest of steps, but the vampire tread softens them somewhat. All the guards and many of the servants inside the castle are vampires. Safer that way, and it helps keep the peace outside the castle by instilling a sense of hope and ambition in the peasants who obey their vampire queens.

While that fetching is being done, Lenore turns her attention back to their captive. A feral mess, with dirt-brown hair that glints auburn under the muck.

"I am Lenore, one of the four queens here. You may call me 'my queen', or 'Lenore'." She already knows that their captive will absolutely do no such thing. Not yet, anyway. "Is there something you'd like to be called other than 'rat' or 'slave'?"