Chris circles him, making little adjustments. "Your pelvis should be tilted like so. And don't fidget. Again."

"Yes, Chris." He wasn't fidgeting before. He adjusts his hips the way Chris says to. 

"Let's try the adjustment for kneeling you thought of."

On his knees, weight shifted backwards so it's over his feet, shoulders back head down hands clasped behind his neck. 

"Hm. Let's see it with your feet spread a bit more widely."

He does. Chris was right, of course; it's easier to balance this way. 

For the next two and a half hours, Chris runs him through every single one of the slave positions and the transitions between them. He adjusts Marlo's posture.

At the end he says, "That was graceful. You have potential."

"Thank you, sir." His posture doesn't change but his face softens. 

The doorbell rings. 

"Stay," Chris says, and answers it. 

A pretty blonde woman in her forties and a white-haired man in an exquisitely tailored suit enter. 

"Greta, Emil," Chris says, "glad you could make it on such short notice."

…he shouldn't kneel for a long time but he's not sure how long Chris will be and he can handle it for a few minutes. 

He stays. 

"Stand," Chris says. "Greta and Emil will be handling your examination for the Marketplace today. I will be in the room, but act as if I am not here."

"What an unusual position," Greta says. "Pretty, though. He has a nice face."

He stands. "Yes, Chris." 

He doesn't know how to address Greta, but she wasn't speaking to him, so he doesn't have to figure it out just yet. 

Chris sits on a corner of the couch with a notebook and pen and does not seem to be paying any attention to the goings-on.

The old man says, "I am Dr. Emil Kaufmann, and this is my slave, Doctor Greta Mueller. What is your name, boy?"

"Marlo Lane, Doctor." 

"We are here to examine you, my boy, to certify that you are in good mental and physical health and prepare your file for the Marketplace. Your records will be considered confidential but they will be released to your owner when you are purchased. Do you understand and consent to be examined?"

"Yes, Doctor." 

"Please answer the questions as honestly and completely as possible. No need to take a lot of time to think about your answer-- I just want you to speak off the top of your head."

Trying to answer off the top of his head often takes more thought than just letting himself think about it. "Yes, Doctor." 

Dr. Emil has a kind and thoughtful manner. He listens like you are the most important person in the world and he has set aside everything to concentrate only on you. He is completely nonjudgmental; nothing you can say disturbs the calmness of his countenance. People feel a strange urge to open up to him.

Greta is taking notes.

The questions jump seemingly randomly from topic to topic. What were Marlo's relationships with his parents like? What did he think of military service? Has he ever been arrested, and for what? When was he first aware of sexual feelings? What does the word 'friendship' mean to him? What does he think about his PTSD diagnosis? Who does he think was the best president in his lifetime? What percentage of his life would he say is happy? How many people had he had sex with, and what did he think about having sex with them? How often does he masturbate, and how? Is he religious? What are his favorite books? If he had a vulva, what would it look like?

Marlo, as a rule, does not trust strange urges to open up to people. 

His parents wanted the best life possible for him and he's grateful for the work they did to ensure it. It was a privilege to be able to serve his country. He has not. Fourteen, maybe, he's not sure. Trust. He still isn't sure what he thinks of his PTSD diagnosis. Not Clinton. He doesn't know but maybe 70%? Two and it was fine but nothing special. Every couple of months; he doesn't know how to answer how. He is religious; he doesn't put any particular emphasis on the present tense but it is definitely a sentence in present tense. He likes Narnia. He can't say he's ever thought about it. 

Emil's nonjudgmental smile never wavers.

Chris ignores the interview and concentrates on whatever it is he's writing.

After a few minutes of this his eyes stop darting over to Chris. 

Lunchtime!

"You will not speak unless spoken to," Chris says at the beginning of lunch, and he is not spoken to.

He wouldn't have had much to contribute, anyway. The conversation consists of incomprehensible gossip about someone named Geoff Nagel, whom Chris seems to find personally offensive on every conceivable level. 

He eats and does his best to follow the conversation anyway, keeps track of the specific traits Chris finds offensive.