Were he anywhere else, even waiting on anyone else, Devero might have allowed himself a tour of the hall. Even without any context, just seeing new and interesting things would have been a treat. Hell, even the blandly serene paintings would have been a pleasure to look at-- were he anywhere else.

He stays were Master's left him, arms behind his back, and waits without indulging his curiosity.

He follows right on the heels of the mute slave, perfectly a step behind all the way down into the study. His eyes flick to the vidscreen and then away again, fixing on the only thing that actually matters in this room: Heber.

He goes to his knees with the controlled grace Madame had inculcated in him, then bends forward all the way, hands on his knees and forehead to the floor in full and formal genuflection. "Lord Heber," he intones, "how may this slave serve you?"