This man was mad. Totally and utterly mad. What kind of foolish ingrate tried to steal from him of all people? And those clothes, how strange they were. Where did a slave ever get themselves such fancy garments? Not like they had the money for it. The whole thing struck him as strange and while the guards had been very insistent that this one had to be one of his, he didn't remember him being here.

But, well, he did remember him somewhat. Kind of. He knew that face. So maybe he was and he'd just missed him. Couldn't know everyone.

"You dare try to speak to me?" he asked in disbelief, part of him almost in awe over how defiant this one was. Slaves rarely raised their head to look at him and this one? He had the audacity to greet him? One of the guards rather promptly and viciously hit the Doctor around the head as a stern reminder of who's presence he was in. "You have committed a great offence, you're not doing yourself any favours."