Former legionary Titus Pullo, current captain of the Aventine collegium, stumbled out of his bed and into his clothes. A big man wearing the tunic of a commoner and soldier's
caligae, he blearily made his way to the kitchen for breakfast, only to find that he was suddenly in a room that looked nothing like the wood and stone of his apartment on
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*He doesn't seem to be all 'yeah, Nero rules'
*He seems as confused as anyone normally is around here so is probably not a master-planner
*He doesn't seem to be the type to spill wine all down his wife's expensive clothing at a posh meal to humiliate her because he's bored
There's the whole brothel-and-women-thing, but Mel's not gonna touch that for now. Fingering her angel tags--which have somehow been turned into her old bulla--she approaches.
'And they say thirteen's an unlucky number.'
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She removes the hand from her silver bulla with the sweet little bee design, and appears to be debating what to say next.
'I'm Mel,' she adds, trying to remind herself that, you know, angel, nice to everybody except demons trying to kill you, and trying not to slip totally back into her Roman cover story. Mella, slave to Aurelia.
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Dax, coming straight from her morning exercises, still had a Bat'leth hooked securely around her back. The Tent Village was just a bit too crowded to safely practice. You were liable to poke a lobster's eye out!
She read over the application with a wry grin. "Can't say I've ever been to Narbo."
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"It's as decent as any place in Gaul," he said, somewhat distracted by her weapon. "What's that you're carrying, then?"
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"What's wrong with skinny?!"
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Pullo liked dogs. Now that the grain shortage was being sorted out, they were starting to come back to the Aventine--the threat of being eaten by desperate Romans was enough to scare just about anything off, he figured.
He crouched down and held a hand out. "Here, puppy," he called, adding in a whistle for good measure.
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Fully encouraged by the whistle and the friendliness of the Roman, Wishbone ran up to him.
I'm here!
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