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July, 75 AD

He had nothing. Or, almost nothing. No work, no wife, no place to be and soon he might be out of coins too. Manius barely ate these days. He was trying to make the money last and trying to not go and gamble with the hope for gaining more. On the other hand, he might lose it all and be so indebted they’d take him because he had no coins and then he’d be a slave again. That might be the easiest way to go anyway.

But so far he had not gambled the rest of his coin away. He had spent a little of it on wine. Just a stupid attempt to forget his sorrows for once. That didn’t work all the time though. He was hungry. He needed food.

Manius had gone to the marketplace to see what he could find. The food smelled deliciously, from every taverna and place handing out food, but he didn’t think he was so poor he should get food from one of the places offering for the poorest. He had coins. And someone else needed it more. What could he get though?

He walked by a few stalls. The bread was too expensive. So were the sausages and the flat-bread and the honey-cakes. There was a fruit stall. The apples looked delicious and so did the oranges. He could smell them in the summer-heat. But they were shiny and fresh and there was no way he should spend his money on an apple just because it was shiny. He began turning some of the peaches around and picked one that was extraordinarily soft. Even its color was somehow... off. Overly ripe.

“How much for this?” He asked the lovely young woman in the stall.

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Didia wiped the small beads of sweat from her forehead, blinking into the sun. Even though the stall was covered by an awning the angle of the sun was shining right in her eyes and the heat and smells of the great market of Rome were making her feel off-colour. It was busy today - as it had been most of July since the earthquake - although every now and again somebody down on their luck or desperate for food would try and snatch something. If it was something relatively cheap or if it was a child she tried to turn a blind eye, but when it was an adult and her more expensive produce she called out and the thief usually dropped it and scarpered before they could munch it down. 

A man approached now though and Didia eyed him with a polite smile. She was a good judge of character but the heat and the tension of the day so far made her wary. She watched him eye the fruit and was about to exclaim to get his hands off the merchandise when he picked up a rotting peach. Damn the fool Appius for packing the dodgy goods from the warehouse. Her younger brother could be so careless sometimes! She glanced at the man and then pack at the peach, raising her hand to take it from him; "I'm sorry sir, that one's rotten - there's plenty of better ones below, you don't want a rotten peach!" She laughed. 

 

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The young woman in the stall seemed to almost be dripping with sweat in the summer-heat. Poor woman, he thought to himself. Didn’t she have some man who could do this work for her, so she could sit in the shade of her cooler home somewhere? But it didn’t matter. Manius was hungry and there was no way he could buy a bunch of the perfect- looking peaches. So he found a bad one. That one would be cheap and at least it was something to fill his belly with.

When he asked for the price however, she wanted to take it from him. She laughed and spoke of better peaches but he shook his head, not handing it over to her.

“It’s just very ripe, it’s good enough for me.” He said, not about to confess his lack of money to a stranger just yet, “Besides, I think I’d rather have two of these than one of the nicer looking ones. So… what will you take for this?” Manius then asked, not about to give up on the overly ripe peach just yet. It was true, really, two would be better than one. Two would fill him more than one. It really would be the better deal, for him.

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Didia frowned and placed her hand in the curve between her waist and her hip, eyeing him. She told him the price, knocking a bit off for its over-ripeness but it still wasn't nothing. Try as he might to disguise it, Didia had seen plenty of comers and goers to the stall over the last few weeks all looking for a cheap deal. She had never really felt hunger, not proper hunger. Her family weren't well off but they always had a reasonably steady income as long as the crops were good and she'd never gone without. She couldn't imagine how that felt. 

She leaned up on her toes and peered over the stall - taking her hand to the apple and tossing him one. Apples were far cheaper than peaches, especially green sours like this one. "This might be more up your alley? Apples are cheaper than peaches, sir." She was trying to sound respectful and not pitying but her eyes told a different story.

 

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She wasn't happy with the fact that he kept haggling for the price of the overly ripe peach. Surely it wasn't rotten yet? Just on the brink of being so. And he really would rather have two than one. She named the price and he knew he had a few coins, but he might have to clip one to get to the right amount she wanted. It was cheap. And it was embarrassing. He had had a good job for so long now, at the slave market, and now he had nothing. He had to choose if he'd rather have a home or be hungry. And right now it would seem he chose to try and not be too hungry. He wasn't starving yet, but he needed something.

While Manius considered the price, the woman picked an apple out and tossed it to Manius. He'd barely seen her motions, but his reaction was fast and he caught the apple easily. She suggested he buy that and that it was cheaper than peaches.

"It does look good." Manius commented, glancing at her. He knew she was trying to be nice. He knew he was embarrassing himself for trying to buy such cheap food, but what else could he do? She felt sorry for him, he could tell. He didn't need her pity. Manius had plenty of that without adding hers.

"I'm not sure though... what do you think? Would you rather have two peaches or one apple?" It was so stupid. Maybe he should save the money for another time. He wasn't worth much anyway, was he? This woman right here, she was worth more. If she knew that he'd been unable to keep his wife safe... she wouldn't sell him anything. And he would understand.

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Didia eyed him. The poor sod. Nobody else was around or coming over to the stall and so with a sigh, she pulled up her stool and took a seat - leaning her jaw into her palm to watch him. "I think I'd rather a nice apple and a nice peach." She said with a gentle smile. "But the apples are a bit sour so how about I give you the apple for the same price as the rotten peach, and you take a nice one as well to compensate for us having such shoddy merchandise sir?" 

It was a favour, but her father wasn't here to oversee her and she'd just claim she had to throw an apple for a worm or such. Appius would get a scold about loading dodgy merchandise but that was by the by. He did need to work a bit harder. 

Tapping her fingers against her chin she eyed him. "You know if you come a bit later to the market, just before sunset usually, most of the stallholders are offloading their stuff at a cheaper price so they don't have to lug it back to their stores or warehouses." She inclined her head to the stall across the way selling bread and sweet buns, "Caeso sells his stuff for a quarter of the regular price usually." It was advice but dressed up as a fact for him. 

Something else was obviously eating at him and she arched a brow. "Are you alright though Sir?" 

 

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He felt her eyes upon him. Maybe it hadn’t been right to approach this stall. But now she took a seat and answered his question, saying she’d prefer to have both nice apples and nice peaches and then suggested he should take both an apple and a peach. Manius gave her a look, it was clear she pitied him and wanted to help him out. He’d have bad manners if he refused, but on the other hand, shouldn’t someone else, a better person, have the nice peach?

“If you insist… then we will make that deal.” Manius said and fished the right coin out of his purse and handed to her. Meanwhile she kept looking at him and then began speaking about coming at sunset and that the stallholders sold their things cheaply then. It was odd, he was very familiar with the market, he used to work over there in the corner with the slave market, but it was Salacia who used to do the main shopping for food. Not Manius. He didn’t know these things.

“I’ll consider coming back later then.” He replied, but honestly he wasn’t sure. Maybe the apple and the peach would keep him full until tomorrow. He thought he would be on his way now, but then the woman asked if he was alright.

Manius looked at her, surprised, caught off guard. No one asked him that. Salacia had asked, of course, but never strangers. Did he really look as if he wasn’t? Well, he wasn’t alright, but he didn’t know it was so obvious. What did you say though? He didn’t know her. But there was a pause after her question, a long pause, so she would know now that she probably was right – that he was not alright. She knew. Why should she bother though?

“It’s a long story. I’m sure you have better things to do.” He finally said while turning the apple in his hands.

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Didia chuckled and gestured with a sweeping motion to the market which was fairly quiet for this time of day. "I have nobody else here, and if you don't talk to me I'm going to be stuck by myself." She arched a brow. She didn't wish to pry, but she could tell when somebody needed to offload, or vent. This poor sod, scrunching after cheap fruit, seemed very much in need of a listening ear and it wasn't as if she had any other customers. Besides, if anybody were to pass by a stall looked better when there was somebody already there, never mind that he wasn't really buying anything. 

She glanced up at him, chin still resting in her palm, and studied his face; world-weary and evidently tired. "So I don't mind a long story," She frowned, realising she hadn't introduced herself properly and inclined her head; "The name is Didia. And your name would be a fine start to the story." She chuckled. "You can also start with who you are and what you do, just so I know some background before you go into the details of what's made you look so bloody morose!" She offered him a sly grin, trying to keep her voice light and jesting. 

 

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She wasn’t going to let him go, was she? She seemed nice, she had given him quite the deal with the fruit and now she was asking into how he was doing, which was a too long story for anyone really, but now she chuckled and said there were no one else and she’d be alone if he did not talk to her. Maybe she didn’t want to be alone? It still bothered him that there was no one to help her out. Was she really on her own? Rome was such an unfair place to the good ones.

She went on saying she would not mind a long story and then introduced herself and thought he should too. And then gave him some ideas on where to start. Was he really doing this? He still wasn’t sure. Then she said he looked bloody morose. Manius hadn’t been aware of that. But he was, of course. Morose.

“I’m Manius.” He said, no need to tell her his full name, or she’d guess his former employer and master and then she’d want him nowhere near her stall. A loyal servant to one of the two most disliked rulers of Rome, in the most recent history anyway… she wouldn’t want to hear his story, if he told that much. But she had been good to him, so perhaps he owed her the story she so desperately wanted to hear. Not that it would cheer her up.

“And I don’t do anything at the moment. I had a job at the slave market, here… but they couldn’t pay me and keep me, after the earthquake. That’s why I have to make sure every coin I spend is well spent.” He explained, turning the apple in his hands to keep himself occupied. The job was one thing… then there was the other… “I also had a wife. For many years. She was all I had. She's... gone. She has not been seen since the earthquake.” He ran his free hand through his half-long, not recently combed, hair – and he looked up at Didia… “I hope that explains it for you.”  

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"Manius." She affirmed with an inclination of her head and a soft smile. Miserable Manius, it fit as an epithet, she thought to herself. 

Ah. So the poor man was out of a job. She felt a little uneasy, it wasn't as if they had any sort of opportunity to offer but it was hard enough to get this out of him so he didn't seem the type to come scavenging for employment. She merely nodded sympathetically, but as he continued the soft smile left her face and she swallowed. They'd been fortunate, shockingly so, in their block that the roof hadn't come down or the building collapse into rubble. She'd not met anybody who'd actually lost somebody in the quake but she supposed given its strength there had to have been a few. 

"I'm sorry." She offered with a little sigh and an earnest look in those big hazel eyes. "I'm sorry Manius, that is...awful." She repeated. Swallowing the awkwardness and the lump in her throat she shook her head softly; "Where are you staying now? With no job?" And no family, the poor man.

 

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He hadn’t always been this deep down, had he? Manius had barely been thinking about it, but now she mentioned how visibly morose he was… how obvious it was… it got him thinking. And then he did recall that one time, when he felt as deep as this. When his wife and son had been murdered. That was the last time he lost everything and realized he did not deserve anything. And for many years, he’d been content thinking that. But life went on. And here he was, again.

Didia repeated his name and he explained that he had lost his job. She nodded. Then he told the second half of the story; that his wife was gone. If the earthquake never happened, he wouldn’t be here, now. He was watching her, after revealing the part about Salacia… and she didn’t smile anymore. Now he made her miserable too, didn’t he? Manius glanced to the sky briefly, halfway wondering why there wasn’t a lightning coming from the clear, blue sky to burn him up.

She said she was sorry and looked at him with beautiful, sincere hazel eyes. Like his. She said it was awful and he nodded, silently. Then she wondered what he did now.

“I still have my home. But I don’t know if I can keep it.” Manius added, still watching her. He felt bad for taking the smile off her face. She didn’t deserve to be sad just because he was… “I’m sorry I made you unhappy too.”

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Oh Manius, bless your heart. Didia had a soft side; she was an eternal optimist and tried to see the good in people. Her father had commented on it, saying she was naive, but she wasn't. She'd grown up in the back streets and she could tell a sob story from a genuine one and give the idiot a firm kick in the shin for the former. Manius' reluctance to state his woes made her believe that he wasn't after a favour or such and it made her want to listen. 

She shook her head at his apology and offered a gentle smile; "You haven't made me unhappy, Manius." She felt sad, of course, but for him not for herself.

"A home is something." She affirmed with a nod of her head, "And it's a good place to start. You have more than a lot of people in Rome, if you have somewhere to go. But you need work?" She confirmed, although she knew the answer. With a sigh, she pushed another wave of dark hair from her face, "You should enquire with some of the stallholders maybe? The bigger ones? They need packers and boatmen to work on their supply lines; we don't but we're only small." 

 

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She was kind of smiling at him and saying he had not made her unhappy. But he had. She had been enjoying herself at first, but then she would know his story, although he had tried to tell her that she had better things to do. And she had. She did have better things to do than to listen to his story and become unhappy too, because of it. It wasn’t fair to her. She seemed to be a good woman.

She tried to cheer him up, saying that a home was something to have and that he had more than many people in Rome. But he wouldn’t have it for long. Even now he had to choose between a home and hunger. And he chose to satisfy his stomach rather than his need for a roof over the head. At least he’d be alive. He needed to eat. He was enough of a coward to be unable to take his own life… and today, only the gods knew how close he’d been to death before. Yet it hadn’t been given to him. He didn’t know why.

Didia suggested where he could find a job, “I suppose it’s worth a try. If they will have me.” They might and he might be able to do it, but he enjoyed having a weapon in his hand. It was better than nothing though, if he was lucky enough to get a job… “Do you think they can afford another worker though? I lost my job because they couldn’t pay me at the slave market… others may have the same issues..”

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Didia reached across the stall to pinch his shoulder and arched a brow; "Of course they'd have you, get a grip!" She chuckled and flashed him a vibrant smile. She was a hopeless optimist, which when dealing with somebody as miserable as poor Manius was a blessing. "Look at you - big, huge, handsome man. They'd love you." She was trying to be kind, buoy him up a little. Whether it was working was anybody's guess. 

She glanced across at the stalls in front of her own. "A few might not be able to; the fancier stalls, the ones dealing in luxuries aren't probably hiring; plebs have no need of fancy jewellery or kitchenware if they're struggling to rebuild their houses." She tapped her jaw, "But people dealing in bread and things, staples, they'll always have need for warehouse workers." She had a bright idea and blinked, "Or!" She grinned, "Why not speak to somebody in an architect's firm or two? Surely they'll be looking for labourers to re-build the city?" 

 

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He was surprised when she suddenly reached out and pinched his shoulder – touching him. He hadn’t expected her to do that. Not that he disliked being touched, but he was surprised. No one touched him like that. She then told him to get a grip, smiling brightly at him and then she continued to compliment him. Big, huge, handsome man? He blinked, looking at her as if she was being ridiculous. Really, she thought those words applied to him? He shook his head, he did not think that would be the case. And he wasn’t big. He wasn’t a gladiator. And few people had named him handsome before. Salacia, of course… and then there’d been Galenus, but that was something else entirely. Something of the past…

Manius got distracted by his thoughts until Didia began telling first who couldn’t afford to hire him and then suggesting whom he could work for. Bread. Warehouse work. Well it would be better than nothing, at the moment. She grinned and then wanted him to speak to an architect.

“I know nothing about such work. And rebuilding… that’s mostly… slave’s work.” He felt his heart beat faster at the thought. Manius didn’t look down on slaves, not really. He just wasn’t one… but… it would make everything so much easier. Still he wasn’t sure if it would be the right thing to do, but since they were talking about it, maybe getting a second opinion would not hurt, “I might as well do it. Would you do it, if you had no other options? Would you hand yourself over… just like that?”

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Didia frowned. She didn’t have a huge amount to do with slaves, her family didn’t own any - although the suppliers they worked with did. Besides the slaves of the rich and fancy Senators she supplied, she didn’t much encounter them, but slaves such as Rufus and his ilk weren’t really comparable to labourers. She suddenly felt naive and winded, a bit embarrassed; “I didn’t know that - are they all slaves?”

His question threw her and she blinked. “I...” She shut her mouth and sat up a bit straighter. She’d never considered the question, never had any need to; her life was almost irritatingly stable. But she supposed things could change: suppliers went out of business or had poor harvests, her awful older brother could take their money upon her fathers death...anything. And she’d be left with nothing, and no skills. “I...” She started again with a deep breath, “It would have to be the only choice...I...I couldn’t imagine a life at the whim of somebody else. It’s not the work that scares me, I work bloody hard enough already but...to be hurt or killed or sold by somebody else...that would terrify me.”

She eyed him gently and reached forward to squeeze his shoulder, trying to shake off the discomfort she felt at his question; “You have other options, you shouldn’t think of things like that Manius...”

 

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She didn’t seem happy that the idea of him working with rebuilding monuments wasn’t any good. As far as he knew though, there were of course architects, but most of those doing the actual hard work, they weren’t free citizens. Sure it was the emperors and noblemen, who got their names written down. This emperor built that bath. But they never touched a stone. It was slave labor and it was hard work.

“Most of them are. Not the architects… or the overseers and guards. But the rest…” Were probably slaves. Then he asked if she would give herself to slavery, if she had no other options. That seemed to surprise her, she blinked and trailed off after she began. She sat up straighter. He messed it up again. That’s all he was able to do this time around. Messing things up. Nothing was right. After a long moment of silence, she said she would only do it if she really had no other choices and she didn’t like the idea of being a slave. Manius thought that what she said terrified her about being a slave… that’s what made it sound comfortable to him. So he said nothing to her response.

Didia didn’t seem to mind and then suddenly reached out and squeezed his shoulder, saying he had other options. This time her touch didn’t surprise him as much. Manius realized he kind of missed being touched. He missed Salacia, holding her at night, kissing her hair while she slept, holding her hand… a warm touch, that’s what he missed.

“If nothing else comes up, at least I know what to do.” Manius said and looked up at her. It wasn’t too bad talking to her, in fact. She had a friendly face and lovely eyes, he thought. Could she endure hearing the truth of him though? “It’s interesting that it terrifies you, the thought of slavery. Imagine that you don’t have to think for yourself. You know what to do every day. And if you don’t, someone will tell you. And you know what happens if you don’t follow orders. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

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Didia eyed him and slowly realisation filled her. She didn't say anything for a moment or two and and just eyed him. "I...have heard it's different for women who are slaves, sometimes." it was a diplomatic way of saying 'I hear poor women get raped left right and centre. "That's what terrifies me, I think." She equally knew that male slaves were not exempt from assault, but reckoned it was less common, surely? She'd been subject to the usual, irritating cat-calls from men in the Aventine and warehouse districts as most passably attractive young women are, but she was fortunate that nothing worse than that had befallen her. The thought turned her stomach and she shook her head. No, if there was one reason she wouldn't sell herself into slavery it was that she couldn't stomach the thought at being at the mercy of a man who may or may not be a lecherous old fool. 

But something he said still played on her mind. She straightened up a little before saying, gently; "I...have you?" She winced, trying to figure out how to phrase it, "Have you been in that...situation before?" She'd come across freedmen before, of course, but never a freedman who wished to return to his previous lot in life. She clarified quickly, "I only ask because you speak as if you've lived that life before. But tell me to bugger off if I'm prying." She managed a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

 

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 Manius had shared with her that it did not really terrify him to be a slave. He thought of all the positives to a man like him – how it took so much responsibility away from you and in that sense, it was very easy. But she eyed him as she went quiet, then said it was different for women who were slaves and that terrified her. Different for women? Because they’d be abused more often? It happened to men too. It happened to Manius more than once. Salacia also hadn’t gone free, he knew that much. Her former master had been a beast.

“There are parts of slavery that are not so… easy. For anyone. Most don’t deserve such treatment.” Most weren’t Manius. He knew he deserved it. And the odd thing was that while it had been unpleasant and painful, it hadn’t been bad because of that. It was more because it was humiliating. The painful part had not been something he really disliked. But no one would understand that at all. So he wouldn’t mention it. She seemed surprised though, that he spoke with such certainty about the live of slaves and she wanted to know if he’d been in such a situation before. Manius cast his eyes down. It was both embarrassing and… not? It was difficult to explain for him.

“I have been there. By choice.” He added as he looked up at her, “I understand if you don’t comprehend it. But the thing is, sometimes… it is the better option to have someone controlling you. When you can’t control yourself. It was like that for me.”

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Didia arched a brow. By choice?! She had to hide her surprise, but she had a naturally expressive face and some surprise must have been visible. She tried to lighten the mood with a wry smile; "Ah, but that's the thing Manius, us women always have somebody controlling us." She chuckled and brushed dark hair from her face. 

"If it's not our fathers then it's our husbands, and not our husbands then our sons. Unless we manage three kids, we're well taken care of. No need to worry our pretty little heads." She wagged her eyebrows in amusement, obviously joking. Things might have been like that up in the higher ranks of society - where all a wife seemed to do was sit and sew or gossip, but for working plebs, women were hardly constrained. They left the house to work, reared children, had active social lives...no...she'd much rather be a pleb than a rich woman swanning about her huge villa but dreadfully lonely. 

"But..." She sighed, shaking her head with a chuckle, "I meant what I said Manius. Don't give up so easily, do something you'll regret...give it a little time? I'll even throw in a free apple a day if you do?" 

 

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She did seem quite surprised when he told her that he entered slavery by choice. Most people were surprised and did not grasp it, but most also didn’t ask into why he did it. Maybe that was the mistake. If they knew what a fool he’d been, maybe they would understand. If they knew about his gambling and how it came so much out of control, that his wife and toddler were murdered and left in their blood on the floor… if they knew that, they’d understand. But how could he speak about it and still respect the dead?

Didia said women always had someone controlling them, so they had no need to worry about someone else doing it for them. Manius nodded, casting his eyes down, “Of course. I didn’t think of it that way.” She might have meant it as a joke, but to Manius, it still sounded as if he offended her somehow. And he hadn’t meant to. Didia went on, saying he should do not give up easily and do something he’d regret. Then she offered him a free apple. She was very sweet, he thought. And he'd done nothing to deserve her kindness.

“You have given plenty already. I’m sure you too have a family to support. You can’t give everything away cheaply or for free.” He said, looking up at her again, “There’s no knowing what is going to happen next. We’re mere playing pieces for the gods.” Which meant maybe he’d find a job and things would go better again. Or maybe he wouldn’t and he’d be a slave or maybe a gladiator and die in the arena.

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Didia shook her head, "My family support me, and what they know won't hurt them. Besides, it's an apple, it's not as if I'm sending you off with a wagon of produce." She grinned. Apples got dropped, were full of worms, were lost all the time. She'd just lose one a day to Manius. 

At his words, Didia smiled and nodded solemnly. She wasn't hugely pious, not any more than the next woman of her gender and class, but his words were powerful and sent a shudder of something up her spine. She tried not to think of the Gods too much, not in that way at least. She murmured a; "Mhmm." and dipped her head. "Surely they're not interested in people like us though?" She countered with narrowed eyes, "Surely they're too busy with the nobles to care much about interfering with plebs and freedmen?" there were thousands, hundreds of thousands, of people under their charge, after all.

She saw a shadow pass her by and glanced as another man approached the stall, gold chains clinking and imperious look on his face. Bloody equites. 

 

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I think we may be nearly done? But they can catch-up again for a more cheerful conversation once he's got his job with Caecina for a bit!

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Didia grinned, she was so… cheerful. She said that her family supported her, not the other way around and she could afford giving him an apple a day. It must be nice, he thought, to have a family who cared and someone who supported her. He had a family too, once. He had people to support. He failed them. First he spent all his coin gambling and didn’t realize how badly it got before someone died. Perhaps he shouldn’t have a family. Maybe that was the plan.

She had wanted him to not give up too easily though, but he pointed out that they were mere playing pieces for the gods, so you could not know what would happen. That seemed to drop her mood again, but then she did not think the gods would be interested in their lives.

“I think to the gods, everyone’s equal. And if they’re too busy… then…” He trailed off. If it wasn’t the gods who took things from him, when he took life for granted or acted badly, then… then there were no one else but himself who did it. Then he was truly cursed. But he never got the chance to continue, as another man approached her stall. He seemed wealthy. Manius looked at Didia, she was very likable and he would be back again for the apple tomorrow, if she was here. He didn’t really want to end their conversation here. But she had other people to tend to now.

“Thanks for the… trade.” Manius then said, picking up the coin from his curse, the coin he still owed her for the bad peach. He met her eyes one more time before he’d be on his way, “I won’t forget you.”

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