Ah, now this was a topic of conversation that Gannicus could warm to. He grins lazily and slides along the picnic bench closer to where Stephen sits on the next one along.
"When I was yet a slave in the House of Batiatus," He starts with a grin, "My victories in the Arena were rewarded with more wine than I could drink, and all the whores I could fuck..."
It was all a slave could wish for, really; if freedom was out of the question, they might as well have a good time behind their locked bars. He doesn't bother to try to whisper the words that follow, despite the fact that they carried a far more dangerous insinuation:
"In later years, when I fought in rebellion with my brothers, celebration was much the same." He shrugs. "Some say soft lips wet with wine are all the sweeter for taste of freedom upon them. I say wine tastes like fucking wine and I would drain a cup of it all the same, free man or not."
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"When I was yet a slave in the House of Batiatus," He starts with a grin, "My victories in the Arena were rewarded with more wine than I could drink, and all the whores I could fuck..."
It was all a slave could wish for, really; if freedom was out of the question, they might as well have a good time behind their locked bars. He doesn't bother to try to whisper the words that follow, despite the fact that they carried a far more dangerous insinuation:
"In later years, when I fought in rebellion with my brothers, celebration was much the same." He shrugs. "Some say soft lips wet with wine are all the sweeter for taste of freedom upon them. I say wine tastes like fucking wine and I would drain a cup of it all the same, free man or not."