A little physical angst and mild emotional angst, with the protagonist having a big, puppy-like subordinate
“That’s more like it.” Augustus smiled in satisfaction. He rose and walked over to Hermes, gently wiping the cold sweat from his temple with a fingertip. His touch was as tender as if he were handling a treasure. “Remember, you are my most perfect creation. Any emotion that doesn’t belong to a ‘tool’ is a flaw.”
He leaned down and whispered in Hermes’s ear, “Spend tonight reflecting on your actions. Tomorrow, I want to see a completely new, obedient general.”
Hermes closed his eyes, his long lashes trembling violently before finally becoming still. Like a porcelain figure polished of every sharp edge, he crumbled to dust in the shadows, yet still had to piece himself together into something gentle and serene.
