Liv

Artemon bit his lip at the barber's hesitation, wondering if he'd said the wrong thing. Maybe this Barbatius fellow had that condition that made a person's skin break out in hives and rashes when they touched something. Fortunately, he was spared from supposing any further when the other man presented another vial for him to smell. Ah! There it was! He had never been rich enough to buy a lemon and know what it tasted like, but he recognised the scent. Before Artemon could squeal his approval, the vial disappeared from under his nose. "Oh..." was his disappointed reply, although it hardly came as a surprise. The haircut was already pricey, of course any add-ons would be too. Artemon's eyes met the barber's and, sensing no openness to haggling, gave a resigned nod. "Er, what about pine?" Was that cheap enough? He had no idea. Trying to dissipate the awkwardness in the air, Artemon eagerly launched into small talk. "You know, lemons remind me of Alexandria. The people I worked for shipped mostly wheat, but every now and then we'd get other wares coming from the east. Have you ever been to Alexandria? It's really an amazing city!" he chatted away, casting a curious glance at the very quiet slave that was busy staring at the floor. Perhaps the poor lad wasn't allowed to speak - he need not be concerned, for Artemon would talk for the both of them. @Atrice

Artemon's shoulders drooped with relief as the barber pronounced his funds sufficient, and a moment later he was retrieving his pouch with a nod of assent and a look reminiscent of a pleased cat. It wasn't by any means a paltry sum for him - yet there were times in life when you had to fake it till you made it. He therefore decided to frame this expensive haircut as an investment in his future. "Oh yes, that would be great!" he agreed, a cocky smile playing on his lips for a few seconds as he pondered the question. "Well, you're not wrong. They do like them." Maybe that was why Artemon had the worst luck with ladies: he didn't smell good enough. Fortunately Barbatius could help with that. Artemon leant forward to sniff the vial in front of him, recognising the scent right away. "To be honest, this isn't quite what I had in mind..." was his sheepish admission as he avoided eye contact. "Do you have something a bit..." A bit... More masculine? Sharper? Crisper? Now wasn't there something he had heard recently about a barber and lemons? Artemon squinted, trying to jog his memory. Of course! At Alexius' party! One of his guests was looking for their barber friend. Too bad Artemon hadn't caught the boy's name so he could ask Barbatius; he would have to try a different, subtler approach. He looked up at the barber again, pretending to have thought hard about what he wanted. "A bit... fresher? You know, like lemons?" @Atrice

Hah! So Marcus Barbatius had rich patrons; just the sort of thing Artemon liked to hear. He beamed at the other man, managing to look even dafter than usual. "Oh no, I have complete faith in your ability!" After all, if it was good enough for a prosperous clientele, it was certainly good enough for him. A brief interrogation floated through his mind - would Barbatius share the identity of some of his illustrious customers? Artemon's mouth opened to voice the thought, but he closed it again a second later. No, first he had to earn the barber's trust and then he could ask questions, maybe even form a successful business partnership. He sank into the chair, pleased with his reasoning. The question caught him unaware, but Artemon quickly straightened up and nodded, grinning back at the man in hopes of seeming more trustworthy. Here came the moment of truth. Fidgeting with his ratty money pouch, Artemon felt the coins through the worn leather before presenting it to Barbatius with a nervous motion. "You tell me!" What if the barber told him it wasn't enough? Well, at least there weren't any other customers around to witness Artemon's humiliation. And he would have a word with Menenius too - just how much was that sod getting paid if he could afford Barbatius' skills? He glanced up at the barber, eyes bulging in expectation of his verdict. Hopefully his prices hadn't increased in the last few days. @Atrice

The gods were surely on Artemon's side that day, seeing it as this purportedly very skilled barber could in fact accommodate him then and there. He looked very professional, at any rate, holding his razor so confidently. Artemon felt more at ease almost immediately and smiled back at the other man, paying no mind to the scrutiny of his near-nonexistent facial hair. "Yes, just the hair," he confirmed, taking the seat offered to him as the barber turned round to retrieve something. Who would have thought getting a haircut could be so exciting? He would definitely have to tell Iophon all about it when he went back! Overwhelmed by a surge of boldness come out of nowhere, Artemon made an unusual decision. "I usually cut my hair the same every time, but today I'll leave it to your expert judgement!" An experienced man like Barbatius had probably seen enough faces and hair types to know what fit one best. It was perhaps unfortunate that Artemon didn't go in for a shave, as that would have kept him far quieter than a haircut could hope to achieve. "My friend who told me about you also works at a warehouse. Do you get many customers like us or is it more of a mixed bag?" If Marcus Barbatius had wealthy customers... and Artemon happened to come across one of them at the shop... and have the chance to discuss business... that might just be the lucky break he needed! @Atrice

On that crisp morning, as Eos drove her chariot across the sky and painted it a pale pink that slowly turned into blue, Artemon had briefly admired his reflection on a still puddle of water as he made his way home after a long night of toil. This contemplation had allowed him to confirm what he had been suspecting for a few days now. His hair was getting too long. The problem with that was that it would soak up sweat like a sponge, leaving him to feel as though he had dunked his head in a mix of clay and oil. It made for very uncomfortable working and for a very unkempt appearance. And that would simply not do! Gallus would never increase his pay with him looking like that. So he had gone home, taken a short nap, eaten some stale bread and collected a few coins from the literal hole in the wall where he kept a figurine of Sobek to guard his hard-earned savings, and with this money Artemon marched out again, keen on finding a barber that wouldn't scalp him. One of the men at the warehouse, Menenius or something equally uninspired his name was, had mentioned one a couple of weeks prior that he claimed to be happy with. 'Not cheap', Menenius had said, 'but when he's done you come out feeling like the emperor!' And that was just what Artemon needed - a mood boost and looking like the shrewd businessman he was deep down. Walking through the busy streets jogged his memory, and the young man found himself standing by the entrance to one Marcus Barbatius' shop. After a quick, nervous look at the contents of his money pouch followed by an equally quick and nervous prayer that it would be enough, Artemon entered the shop, announcing his presence with a greeting. "Salve! I come to this establishment at a friend's recommendation." (Fine, Menenius was just a chatty coworker, but the barber didn't need to know that. Maybe he'd even give him a referral discount!) "As you can see, my hair is in need of being put back in its place." Artemon eyed the other man expectantly, like a puppy wondering if it's going to get a treat. "Could you take care of that now or should I come back later?" @Atrice

It seemed to Artemon he had somehow displeased the non-neighbour attendants of this mysterious party. Why that would be when he was even offering his help was beyond him (as many things were). A hoity-toity-looking man whispered something to Alexius, who whispered back before addressing Artemon. From missing purse to missing person? Now the plot was thickening! Briefly wondering if his witch employer would know anything about such spells, he nodded with great enthusiasm, eager to be of assistance. A barber. Hmm. "I see," he caressed his chin, looking at the missing barber's friend of few words. Perhaps his Latin wasn't the best and the young man was embarrassed; Artemon could relate to that. Still, he listened carefully to the description he was provided, gaze flicking back and forth from one person to the next to show he was paying attention. This barber didn't sound particularly distinctive, truth be told. Another man provided a little more information, and the mention of lemons immediately brought to Artemon's mind his previous job in a merchant ship. "I'll ask around at the harbour next time I'm in Ostia. Maybe he gets his lemons directly from one of the merchants there!" he exclaimed, secretly impressed with his own quick thinking. "And I'll keep an eye out for him at popinae and around the Via Lata." It wouldn't be easy, but Artemon would try his best. "Oh, and I can also ask the others at the warehouse if they've seen him!" he clapped his hands again, beaming at his audience. Two questions occurred to him, and Artemon did not hesitate to pose them. They were intelligent questions, too. "Do you know his name? Or where his shop is?" @Sara @Sharpie @Atrice @Chevi

Now Artemon didn't want to be mean, but this was one of the less lively parties he had ever attended - or so he thought until the kind fruit lady told him otherwise. His mouth widened into a perfect O-shape, and he glanced at the other guests with the appropriate amount of mortification. "Oh, very very sad indeed!" he nodded, managing to look contrite for all of two seconds before curiosity took over again. "Who was it that died?" Huh, Alexius' son wasn't there... and neither was Iophon... Could it be?! That one of these upstanding young men was now awaiting Osiris' judgement in the afterlife?! But surely somebody would have told him if that were the case! His momentary plight was interrupted by Didia's offer of figs. His stomach growled its agreement; a man couldn't very well mourn on an empty one. Nodding blankly, Artemon leant into the arm around his shoulders and looked at the others again. Funny how none of them had torn out their hair or stained their cheeks with tears! In fact, Alexius didn't look sad at all. If something had happened to young Lexus he wouldn't be acting so normal. Increasingly confused, Artemon tipped his head to the side like a puppy and turned his attention to Didia, "A missing purse?", then to Alexius. "Help you?" But what about the figs he had been promised? Willing his stomach to be quiet and listen, Artemon cleared his throat. "So you want my help finding a missing purse, is that it?" @Sharpie @Sara @Atrice @Chevi

As he so often did, Iophon spoke sense. The guard might come back with not just a lamp but also a weapon or another guard or both, and then they would be in great trouble. "Yeah, you're right," Artemon sighed again, casting the crates a forlorn look. In any case, he had come one step closer to knowing what was inside - in the future he should enlist his brother's help again to find out what it was used for and where. Artemon left their hiding place and stalked over to the exit with comically large steps, attempting to hug the wall as he did and checking periodically that Iophon was doing the same. Upon reaching the door he opened it very, very carefully so it would squeak as little as possible, and motioned for his twin to go (and make sure they didn't stumble right into the guard while he was at it). The night's adventure seemed to have come to a positive conclusion, none of them badly hurt or maimed... although Artemon's stubbed little toe still hurt. @Chevi

A great many things eluded Artemon, chief amongst them how to grow his wealth. A bit further down the list was his brother's whereabouts; it was Iophon's turn to procure (and pay for) nourishment and Artemon was hungry. He and his growling stomach waited for a very, very long time (more like ten minutes) for his twin to come home, and when it didn't happen, they decided to go on a hunt. None of their neighbours on the top floor had seen him. Going down another flight of stairs, same response. Going down yet another floor, Artemon made changes to his approach. He let himself into Alexius' abode with all the confidence of somebody who had been there at least once before, failing to account for the possibility of coming in at a rather inconvenient time, and loudly greeted his neighbour. "Alexius! It is I, Artem--" His voice vanished into the ether as he found himself joining a large group of people - so large that it almost looked like the flat was bursting at the seams. There was a couple of familiar faces - he'd crossed paths with them frequently on his way in and out of the insula -, and a couple of unfamiliar faces. Blinking owlishly, Artemon looked round, first left to right and then right to left, a look of confusion on his face. Iophon wasn't one of the faces, so that was one location crossed out, but Artemon didn't turn tail and leave. Oh no. Instead he broke into a grin and clapped his hands, ready to mingle. "You didn't tell me you were throwing a party!" He beamed at Alexius, only half noticing the lack of food and drink one usually saw at parties, even the poorest ones. "Who or what are we celebrating?" @Atrice @Chevi @Sara @Sharpie

Congratulations on getting into graduate school! It's been lovely writing with you, and should you need to scratch the ancient Rome itch at some point in the future you know where to find us All the best to you!

Screwing the gladiatrix was far down on Titus' list of priorities, although if the consul really insisted, he figured he wouldn't be in much of a position to say no, and so he just made a non-committal sound that could have meant anything. Women were supposed to be soft and supple and curvy and fleshy as far as he was concerned, and the woman in the arena seemed to be exactly none of those things. Said woman had just inflicted the first wound of the match to the crowd's deafening cheer, but Lexus quickly fought back with a daring move that had the public roaring, young Silanus gasping and Titus chuckling. It really was different when the gladiators were having fun and not just fighting for their lives. "She was supposed to go visit her parents, but then my sister dropped by and those plans went down the cloaca maxima. We just barely made it out," Titus complained with a glance at his son, who was busy giving his impressions of the match to anyone who would listen. "Knowing Sulpicia, she probably invited herself to dinner. If you like an audience, by all means! My domus is at your disposition." Hopefully Longinus wouldn't take him up on his offer, because that would result in a lot of explaining to do. "If not, having them come here is good enough. Bet they will be awestruck when they get up close and personal with our consul," Titus added with a cheeky grin flashed Aulus' way. "What prize does the winner get, in addition to praise and glory?" @Sara @Atrice @Chevi @Sharpie

How unfortunate that the harlot was more cultured than most of her ilk. Livia suffered through the performance with lips pursed into the suggestion of a yellow smile should any of their guests look her way (which was sure to happen, although she tried not to think about it), her glare at Vibia so intense it felt like it could poke a hole into the woman's fair skin. Fortunately, the selected piece was not a long one. Unfortunately, Vibia did have a pleasant singing voice and passable plucking skills - the latter no doubt aided by her usual metier. "A satisfactory show, yes," she conceded with a curt nod, followed by a long sip of wine so she could avoid the expectation of lavishing praise upon the performer. "Your blasphemies will not please the gods, Secundus," Livia added without so much as a glance at her husband. "I'm afraid I will have to pass on your offer. I don't find it appropriate for a woman to display such skills in public, but I imagine one thinks differently when they are one's livelihood." The cup was now empty, and Livia's mood was not improved by this discovery. Gesturing at a slave for a refill and a bite to eat, she gave Vibia a condescending smile. "How long did it take you to achieve this level of proficiency? It must have required a lot of practice." A quick, mocking glance at Secundus insinuated he couldn't possibly have been the sole volunteer to be practised on. For as long as she lived, Livia would never understand what men found so appealing in sticking their precious appendage somewhere hundreds of others had done the same. @Sara @Járnviðr

'Tempus fugit'? Only when one was having fun. Each year with Secundus felt like a decade, and Livia wasn't keen on immortality. What had been on her father's mind when he had agreed to the disastrous match? The question had floated countless times through her mind, yet remained unanswered. She did not have the courage to openly doubt Marcus Horatius Justinus' judgement and demand to know why; she did not have the right either. As her father, he knew best even if he didn't - such was the way of the world. Maybe one day he would put into practice the old adagio of in vino veritas and share his reasons... Maybe. The grape in her mouth turned bitter, but was forced down with a smile. Pater seemed to find her suggested topic an agreeable one. "It takes wisdom to appreciate the wisdom of others. It's reassuring to know our ruler is surrounded by capable men and inclined to heed their advice." The last few words came out harsher than originally intended, evidence of the persistent irritation that followed mentions of her sister and her husband's perfect lives. "I hope Aulus lives up to expectations during his term. It would be terribly embarrassing for us if he failed to serve the emperor and the people of Rome to the standard they deserve." Oh, her brother-in-law would do a good job and give Horatia cause to gloat all she wanted; Livia could only imagine how much more stuck-up those two would be come same time next year. News, yes - any news would suffice, so long as it kept the focus away from her. "No, I suppose she was not," Livia smirked as she shuffled in her seat, the wry smile turning into a broader and more authentic one at the affectionate pinch. For a moment she regretted her sister was not there to witness the gesture that would likely have made her even less chirpy. "Ah, of course. Titus is what, fifteen? Sixteen this year? What an eventful year this is turning out to be for them!" She raised her cup to her lips, downing half of its contents before imitating Marcus and making for the cheese. "I wonder if they're already considering potential matches for Calpurnia." In a seldom display of ill-disguised malice, Livia added with feigned enthusiasm, "Pater, you must share your impressions of those men with them! You raised two daughters, they should find your experience valuable." Wasn't that the hallmark of a young woman from a respectable family, married off to some intolerable old fart that was closer in age to her father or grandfather than to herself? The question - not unexpected but no less unpleasant for it - had Livia staring morosely into her cup. The temptation to come clean and tell her father all about Secundus' horrid plan was there, poking at her with deceptive fingers. If she gave in, what would Marcus do? Console her for being forced to participate in the scheme? Chastise her for failing to give her husband a legitimate heir? Deceit won out, as it inevitably would, but there was no need to fake the hurt in her voice when she spoke. "I would love nothing more than prove you right, Pater. We have been trying, rest assured, but..." Livia raised her gaze from the cup to Marcus' expectant face. "... What if it's not the gods' will? I have been pregnant twice, but my husband has no known children. What if it's not in the gods' designs that he should be the one to further the family line?" Before the whole disaster that had upended her life months earlier, Livia had considered the possibility a few times in the safety of her mind. Could divorces been granted on account of infertility on the husband's part? She knew the reverse was not uncommon, and had even hoped for some time that Secundus would exhaust his barely-existent patience and return her to her father's house. But perhaps the seed of an idea could be planted on Marcus' mind and, some time after the current state of affairs had come to a conclusion, even bear fruit? She lowered her head, pretending to be ashamed of voicing such thoughts. "Many men remain vigorous even in their later years, I'm aware of that, and father children with their young wives. I know I'm hardly young anymore, but..." The segue hung in the silence. What if it's his fault? @locutus-sum

Funny how a dinner party with this many attendees could be more glacial than court proceedings (or so Livia imagined; she had never witnessed any). Between Sergia's belated recognition of their host's somewhat clumsy flirting, Secundus' obliviousness to anything beyond his own thoughts and Teutus' quietude, she very much felt like she was alone in bailing water out of this sinking ship. She nodded absentmindedly at her niece's reply, taking frequent sips from her cup. "Tibur is very peaceful," she interjected during a lull in the conversation, more to make it seem like she was following it than out of actual interest. Help came in the form of Tertius, the gods bless him, and Livia gave her brother-in-law an appreciative smile before joining in with her own remarks - that hopefully Sergia would segue into some witty sentence or two. "I imagine your home would be even nicer with the pitter-patter of small feet bounding about." She shot Sergia a quick and pointed look as if to signal this reaction was something to pay close attention to, then carried on with a flourish. "Tertius, surely senator Longinus has a villa by the sea like most of us!" Livia let out a dainty, short-lived laugh before bringing the cup to her lips again. Was Lucius Cassius Longinus an unrepenting urbanite or did he favour rural retreats? For the other woman's sake she hoped it was the former, because the latter, as they very well knew, was so boring as to be tear-inducing. A peaceful prison, really. Or could have been, if Secundus did not ruin the bucolic setting with his presence. @Sara @Járnviðr @Sharpie @Atrice

Artemon wasted no time in nodding his confirmation that he did indeed remember perfectly well, thank you very much. A defiant little voice inside his chest argued that now he too knew where Gallus lived, and he too would be watching! Mostly to make sure Gallus didn't come up with excuses to underpay him again. He didn't know where the witch lived, obviously; she might not even live at her master's. Maybe he should try to follow her one day... Snapping back to attention, he grew paler as he realised that he had not locked the warehouse, and spluttered sheepishly to avoid giving a definite answer. He was so tired, and so hungry, and Rome was so dangerous in the dark! "Um... well.." he dawdled, ignoring the attempt at seduction he was witness to as he shuffled his feet. Ugh. Just as he was about to give in, the idea of his future earnings giving him strength to brave the unpredictable and perilous darkness once again, he felt the familiar sting of a hair slap as the woman bid him good night. "I won't, rest assured!" Artemon declared, the door slamming in his face seconds later. If those two were going to be busy for the next hour or so, they wouldn't come out to check that Artemon had indeed gone back to lock up. He could always claim he had done as told but shift the blame to the day shift and their carelessness. Pleased with his plan, he trotted up the stairs to his tiny flat, tiptoed his way in so as not to wake Iophon (if he even was there - in the dark it was hard to tell) and tucked himself in on his straw mattress, falling asleep to thoughts of future riches. @Sara Fin

If Osiris decided to claim him now, Artemon would pass on a happy man. A compliment! It sounded even sweeter coming from his beloved's lips; it was something he would cherish for days to come and draw strength from when Gallus got on his case again. "You are kindness embodied, domina," he retorted with a bright smile. The moment the young woman spoke the magic words he sped off towards the baker's, procuring a bun in what was probably the fastest business transaction in his whole life. Within minutes he was back, presenting the bun to his nymph to examine before breaking it into two uneven halves as per her request and handing her the smallest one. Truth be told, Artemon was hoping they could have a nice sit-down chat over the bun, but he realised now it was nigh impossible. Her slaves would no doubt go snitching on them to her family, and might even forbid her from ever seeing him again! That was something to be avoided at all costs. "Domina," he started between bites (the bun was juicy all right), "please forgive my curiosity, but I must say this. I am fascinated by your hair! Not even in Egypt have I seen anything like it!" Alexandria was almost as eclectic in population as Rome, with people coming in from all corners of the empire, and whilst he had seen people with yellow hair before, none had possessed such a fair shade. "Is it a wig or is it really yours?" @David

As clear as the waters of the Nile after the flood, which meant still a bit muddy. He could always hope Davus didn't ask too many questions, though, and run things past Iophon beforehand to get a better sense of how to tackle this future situation. Gallus was kind enough to let him finish before speaking up, but as Artemon watched him pick up the dripping knife, a horrible sinking sensation took hold of his stomach. This witch was no good at predicting the future, else she would have known she had come to the insula to meet her end! "U-uhh..." he stammered, following the knife's trajectory with his eyes as he considered the options. Neither was good and both were lethal... He was spared from having to reply by Gallus seemingly growing tired of his indecision, and Artemon squeezed his eyes shut for an instant before morbid curiosity won out and he opened one of them to see... Gallus smooching the witch?! Now he had definitely seen it all. He opened and shut his mouth a few times in quick succession, uttering sounds of confusion until the words sunk in. So she hadn't been lying! But how could a slave be a boss? In any case, good thing he hadn't angered her too much, and he definitely shouldn't start now! Doing his best impression of a lost puppy, Artemon cast Zia a pleading look, almost ready to prostrate himself at her feet. Fortunately he didn't have to as she agreed to up his pay, and he nodded furiously at the conditions she set, making himself dizzy with the movement. "Yes! Understood! I won't let you down, you can count on me!" he exclaimed, forgetting that he was practically shouting in the hallway in the middle of the night. This was the best day ever! Come his next wage, Artemon would treat himself and Iophon to a proper meal of bread, stew and beer to celebrate. Gaze jumping expectantly from Gallus to the witch, he decided to push his luck one more time. "Since I'm already here, may I consider my shift finished and go home to sleep?" @Sara

"Light, of course!" Artemon slapped his knee with great enthusiasm. This is why it was nice to have clever friends - they always remembered things he didn't. "We only have one window, but maybe it'll be enough." If the plant required many windows, that would be a problem: he couldn't ask Gallus to take care of him for it, he couldn't keep it in the warehouse... Maybe Alexius would be willing to keep it for him? Or - wait - maybe Davus could! Artemon smiled to himself, amazed by his own resourcefulness. First, however, he had to find out if the plant really needed more light than their crude square cut into the wall could provide. "Ah, that's nice! Not your master, I mean! It's not nice that I can't visit you!" he explained, the words tumbling out of him like dates from a dropped basket. "I meant that you get to come out often and that is nice!" Right? Or were slaves who stayed at home higher up in the ranks than those who were sent on errands? Hoping he didn't goof too badly (wouldn't be the first time anyway, and certainly not the last), Artemon attempted to come up with a schedule. "Sometimes I work nights and then I sleep during the day, so I think it'll be hard to meet on those days..." Hmm, this was more difficult than it appeared. "Maybe we could meet here on the same day at the same time next week? If you're not busy, that is," he suggested, eyes glinting with the hopeful prospect of a new drinking buddy. "Or you can always come and see if I'm home, if your master doesn't mind. This is how you get there," with an extended finger Artemon drew a map on his palm, mentioning recognisable establishments as reference points. "My place is on the top floor right at the end of the corridor." How exciting to have a visitor! He would just have to sort out what to offer Davus, as it was rude to let your guests remain on an empty stomach. If both he and Iophon were skint the day of, maybe Alexius could spot him some bread and olives. @Sharpie

Third floor, huh? Greedy Gallus was raking in the sestertii and shafting Artemon at the same time! But oh no, things were going to change now! If Gallus got cheeky, Artemon would come down in the middle of the night and bang on the door (and then hide or beat a speedy retreat). He smiled victoriously; this knowledge changed everything. Finally they would be able to afford bread every day! "Lu-to..?" he repeated, slightly puzzled by the name. It wasn't one he could recall having encountered before, but he supposed the boy was German since the witch was German too, and he didn't know a lot of Germans. He was starting to think they were scary people, and the fearsome look directed at him only cemented that opinion. "Um, no, not really," he confessed, already wincing in preparation for whatever punishment she would inflict on him. "If I ask my friend about the boy, I'll have to tell him why. He's really smart, so I can't just lie to him." Not to mention that one shouldn't lie to their friends! Any possible clarification by the woman was interrupted by her coming to a halt in front of a door on the third floor and knocking just once. Was this some kind of code? Artemon squinted, deep in thought. He should learn this code and teach it to Iophon in case it was ever necessary. Gallus' familiar voice brought him back into the present, and Artemon straightened up, attempting to look all prim and proper. "I found this woman trespassing, but she said she's your boss? So we came to see you. We're neighbours, by the way!" he beamed, pointing at the ceiling with his index finger. "I live on the top floor." Now, when would be a good time to bring up that pay raise? Well, here was one possible avenue he could try. Still grinning, Artemon went on. "And she said you need more people to work. In that case, since I've been a good employee for a while now, I would like to be rewarded with more coin!" There - professional and concise, just like Artemon. @Sara

What was it they needed to? Artemon never found out, as the second he opened his mouth a familiar hand rushed to cover it. He fought the impulse to bite it and let himself be yanked unceremoniously to the perceived safety of hiding behind a pile of crates. Crouching low on the ground, he peeled Iophon's hand away and let out a shaky breath, hoping the guard would not hear it. How loud was a breath, anyway? The creak of a door opening broke the silence, followed by heavy footsteps as the guard entered the warehouse. Artemon didn't dare poke his head out to get a glimpse of the man and how dangerous he was likely to be based on size alone. If push came to shove they had the knife he had used to make the hole, but he would rather run and live to come back another night. He exchanged a nervous look with his brother as the guard bumbled round, his footsteps coming closer and then growing quieter as the man walked away. "Gotta find me a lamp," the man muttered before shutting the door behind him and exiting into the dark, presumably to perform his self-appointed task - one that only had been audible because the warehouse had been deathly silent. Artemon sighed, shoulders slumping, and slowly stood up behind the crates, peeking out to check that the guard was indeed gone and not just fooling them. Satisfied that their momentary enemy hadn't been that smart, he turned to Iophon for guidance. "You were saying...?" @Chevi

Artemon shot Iophon an offended glare, although the darkness took away much of its intended effect. "I didn't do it on purpose," he mumbled, lower lip protruding in a pout as he kept picking at the wood. What with the way Tyche had been blessing them tonight, surely the guard was at some distant point of his perimeter. So it wasn't a spice. Bummer! He breathed in the musty air as if to make sure his brother was right, heaving a sigh at the confirmation. Well, there went his dreams of becoming a rich spice thief trader. "Yeah, it's a bit intense for perfume, isn't it?" And very in-your-face too, not discreet at all. Perhaps it could be marketed as a fragrance for sweaty sailors? It might just mask body odour very well... Already thinking of his contacts in Ostia, Artemon was pulled out of his musings by another wise suggestion by Iophon. "Oh, that could be it! Maybe it's one of those shifty cults and that's why it's a secret!" Artemon's excitement meant he was unable to keep his voice down; all thoughts of the guard had vanished from his mind. As if on cue, the wood under his knife finally gave in and a small hole just wide enough to stick two fingers in was now carved into the crate. "Hah! I did it!" he raised a victorious fist and shoved his knife back into its hiding place. "All right, how do we get this out now?" They could flip the crate and gather whatever fell on the floor, but Iophon was clever, so maybe he had a better idea. As Artemon stared at the hole, pondering how best to access its contents, a gruff and somewhat muffled voice could be heard from the outside."Oi! Anybody in there?!" Uh-oh! @Chevi

Ah, the insolence of youth. Luckily for Marcus Silanus, this was a 'been there, done that' sort of thing - something that all men went through (and some never grew out of). In a couple of years it would be Aulus' son with an insolent tongue, and a few years after that Publius. Possessed of unusual magnanimity, however, Titus chose not to voice the retort he would have liked to and remained on the topic of gladiators instead. "Feels like it was only a few years ago... But you're quite right, Consul. It was the year I got married." Time did pass by quicker the older one got, no matter how much Longinus wanted to pretend he was still a spring chicken. In Lexus' case, though, it did not seem to have dulled his movement or agility - he was doing a good job against the gladiatrix. She was also putting on quite the show, and giving the crowd a good run for their money as she taunted her adversary. "Yes, and then you can tell our curious friend here what else she's talented at," Titus peeled his eyes away from the arena to shoot Longinus a sassy glance before defending his erstwhile slave's honour - whatever amount of it a barbarian possessed. "He wasn't complacent when he left my service, but if your your body slave's familiarity with his master is anything to go by, well..." he concluded with a shrug and returned his attention to the match, this time with an added focus. She was athletic all right - maybe a bit too much, even. Her muscles were probably as hard as a man's, Titus conjectured with a frown. Come to think of it, the youths (and their elders) might enjoy seeing the fighters up close, regardless of who won. Leaning forward in his seat, Titus addressed his friend. "Say, Aulus, any chance of personally congratulating our entertainers once it's over? The boys might like it." And if their presence made Marcus Silanus feel young and puny, perhaps next time he would choose his words more carefully. @Atrice @Sharpie @Chevi @Sara

Disaster averted - or so it seemed for the time being. The embrace did not last too long, and Livia let out a breath she had not realised she had been holding. The red-haired slave, having learnt his lesson, was quick to offer her a full goblet as soon as both patricians were seated. She let go of her father's hands and examined him surreptitiously as she sipped at her wine. He seemed well - somewhat entertained, even - and not too worn out by the trip. A good starting point, and it was up to her to keep him in a good mood throughout his visit. It was also up to her to keep herself in a passable mood. Her father's brief summary of news from the capital did not help matters, but Livia forced herself to remain cheerful. "With the weather getting hotter, everybody will soon leave for their villas around Neapolis, and then you can thank Apollo for making life even slower!" A childish joke, and she was quick to disguise her laughter behind her goblet in case Marcus found it too childish. "Oh yes, very peaceful!" Livia smiled a little too wide. Much too peaceful indeed; deathly boring would have been a better description. "It's not as unbearable as Rome on hot summer days, and if it ever becomes too much there is a stream at the edge of the property. It's very pleasant for swimming or even just resting." It had once come in handy for other things too, but those were in the past, fading beyond the veil of nostalgia. "It's not as stinky as Rome either," she added with a mischievous giggle before taking another sip of her drink. "But it's just as you say, pater. I am no longer a little girl, nor a newlywed. Time passes by in the blink of an eye," she commented, raising her eyes to see the bronze-skinned boy come bearing a large platter full of juicy grapes and various cheeses. He set it down in front of them and quietly retreated, presumably to fetch more food. She plucked three grapes the size of eyeballs and popped them into her mouth in quick succession, gesturing at Marcus to help himself as she swallowed. "It is three years this year since my husband and I married." Three years of Hades above ground, only made bearable by the companion that had so selfishly been taken from her. Livia stifled a sigh and raised her cup for a toast instead. "And it is the first year of our new emperor's reign. May he always be in good health." An imperious look at the ginger slave saw him refilling both drinks in a heartbeat and slinking back into his place against the wall. "Are you finding it difficult to 'establish your relationship' with him? Does his youth make him unreasonable?" Livia smiled again with a hint of girlish malice. In all actuality she had no interest in new or old imperial doings, but establishing her father as the wise and more experienced party versus a young man's boldness and enthusiasm miht please him. @locutus-sum

Hmm. Was it completely dried? That was the million sestertius question Artemon did not know the answer to; yet he felt encouraged by the other Egyptian's optimism. Okay, maybe it wasn't straight optimism, but it wasn't a resounding 'no way' or 'that's ridiculous' or '...what?', so he would take what he could get. "I think I'll give it a try! Plants just need water and soil, right? And a pot?" He chewed on his lower lip, wondering if he was forgetting something. Plants didn't eat, so it seemed like that was it. "If I'm successful, Davus, I will tell you all about it!" Even if it took weeks or months. It was only fair that his new friend be updated on the quest he had helped embark on. "Oh, how rude of me! I am Artemon," he returned, silently relieved that he had not forgotten after all. His mother always told him his brain was like a sieve, and Artemon struggled to prove her wrong. If only she had been here to witness it! "I live in an insula on the Esquiline," he added, only remembering moments too late that Davus did not have the same freedom to come and go as he. Oops. "Are you sent on errands often? Or could I visit you at your master's house?" It was the first time Artemon befriended a slave who did not work at a business, and he did not want to cause Davus trouble by doing something wrong. @Sharpie

"Oh. Right." Artemon stayed his hand as he felt Iophon touch his shoulder, conceding that, as usual, his brother made a good point. Or did he? "Can't rats climb, though?" he scrunched up his nose, tucking the knife back into his underwear before following Iophon down. The descent was almost concluded when his foot slipped and his little toe caught in the corner of a crate. A howl and a stream of invective, first in Egyptian and then again in Greek for good measure, left his mouth before he could stop himself, and when Artemon finally hit the floor it was with wounded pride and a very painful toe. When he had enough money, he would go to the shoemaker and demand a pair of closed shoes! Once the pain had subsided enough, Artemon got to work, trying to hack away at the wood as quickly and silently as possible. "Can you smell it? What do you think it is?" he asked his twin, having noticed the scent seemed stronger down there than up by the window. "It's got to be medicine, right? It's too cloying for spices, don't you think?" @Chevi