“Now about that gift I got you, remember how you’ve been all wistful about your concupiscent quadrants? Well I got you something to fix that.” “What,” Karkat said blankly. “Gamzee no, tell me you didn’t get me sex toys.” The good news is that it's not sextoys The bad news is that it's a person.

It's not a secret that Charles was a slave, but it's also not a thing he talks about. It's a thing he'd confessed to Jack one night, when there had been a shipment of slaves in the harbor destined for the inland plantations. Charles had stared and then gone and drunk himself into a stupor. Jack had come to fish him out of a fight in the tavern and haul him back to his tent, stumbling and belligerent. He'd wiped Charles's brow, given him water, and said if I'm to be your keeper I at least deserve to know why you've gotten yourself into this state. And Charles had told him, words slurring together, not the specifics but the general idea.