"The Arena is more a dream than a real place," Maximus tried to reassure him. "Though sometimes men fall and do not return-", his mind flashed to Javert, Morrigan, "- most of us wake from our deaths."

His prosthetic leg shifted under him as he moved, observing Joly's movements, a constant reminder that inside of the arena and out of it were two very different places.

"You can still fight your old enemies, to make new allies. A man's strength is not only in his arm."