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22 December 2008 @ 07:38 pm
Cleonis and Felix: Slim Pickings (Part II)  
Who: Cleonis and Felix
Where: ...around
When: recently

see part one...

Cleonis sighs, moving off of the bed, reaching for Felix and putting an arm around him to help him stand again, supporting his weight. "It'll be dark," Cleonis reminds him airily. "Hope you don't get scared."

"I'm not afraid of the dark," Felix snaps indignantly. He drapes an arm around Cleonis' shoulders, getting a good grip as he stands, shamelessly leaning most of his weight against the man. "Besides, there's considerably less chance of you leaving me for dead in the baths."

"Hey, I run really fast you know. I could be halfway to Brittania before they find your naked waterlogged corpse," Cleonis says conversationally, ignoring the way the nervous slave outside the door balks at them, overhearing his words.

Felix's lips pull into a frown. He eyes Cleonis' profile warily. "Would you really?" he asks, voice tinier than he means it to be. He knows Cleonis kills for a living, but it had never really occurred to him how dangerous provoking a gladiator would be. Though all of Cleonis' casual threats are starting to weigh on him.

Cleonis rolls his eyes a little, thinking it should have been quite obvious he was kidding. "Not if you're giving me money to send my family, why would I do that? If you're going to follow through, I'm going to do my job."

Felix makes a face, sure Cleonis is laughing at him, inside. "How well can you protect someone you don't particularly like?"

"I don't know how good I am at protecting," Cleonis admits, shrugging a little. "But I can fight. I've taken eight at once and come out on top, so I think you're pretty safe. Who would even bother coming after you, anyway? You're an annoying little shit, sure, but what a waste of time."

Felix scowls at Cleonis, throwing his weight against the man to try and jostle him, but he does little damage. "My life is very important," he huffs, though there's a note in his tone that suggests he isn't entirely certain of that. "Shut up."

Cleonis snorts, unable to help laughing. "Right," he agrees, sarcastic. "I'm sure there's about a thousand assassination plots against you at any given moment, since you're so integral to society, such a mover, such a shaker."

"I hate you," Felix says again, with much more passion this time. His cheeks are glowing red from his embarrassment. "Just for that, I demand that you scrub my back."

"Scrub your back? Don't you mean delicately daub at it? I wouldn't want to be too rough on your delicate, tissuey skin," Cleonis continues to prod, even as he helps Felix over a step along the path, as the trail begins to slope downwards towards the baths.

Felix pauses to wince lightly, leaning a little bit more on Cleonis as they near the baths. Despite the sharpness of their words, their movements are slow, cautious, almost gentle. "I don't expect you'd even know what it means to be gentle," Felix scoffs, once he'd gotten a hold of himself again. "You'd probably crush a butterfly if it landed in your hands."

"I can be perfectly gentle," Cleonis grumbles, glaring at Felix. "I think I was pretty gentle with your stupid ankle." He says it so venomously that it's almost comical.

"Like how gentle you were with my stu-- with my wrist?" Felix scoffs again. "I bet it's all been drained out of your system."

"Well what good would it do me to be gentle?" Cleonis demands, snapping. "I kill people. It's my job. If I were gentle I'd be dead."

"That's not all your job is now, idiot," Felix reminds him sourly. "You're my personal guard now. The chances of you having to kill again aren't as high."

"Great, the only person I'll have to kill is myself," Cleonis grumbles, leaning Felix more heavily against himself as he guides the boy up the stairs leading to the baths, practically carrying him up.

Felix scowls sourly, cheek resting against Cleonis' bare shoulder. "Don't make me make you have to oil me down, too," he threatens.

"I didn't realize you meant body guard so literally," Cleonis says dryly. "Should I powder your nose too?" He continues to help Felix into the tepidarium, which is entirely empty and lit by feebly glowing lanterns, nearly out of fuel for the night. Cleonis leans Felix against a column so the boy can undress himself, and starts to untie the laces of his bracae without hesitation, far too used to undressing in company to be bashful.

Felix sticks his tongue out at Cleonis, but the man's back is to him. He huffs, reaching to unwrap his toga, letting the dirty material flutter down and pool around his feet. He looks from Cleonis to the baths. Steeling himself, he slowly starts to push away from the column, attempting to head down on his own.

Cleonis steps out of his shorts, eyes flicking over Felix's body of their own accord, following the curve of his spine, the flesh at his backside. Felix really is beautiful, he thinks resentfully, before he rolls his eyes and walks forward, bypassing Felix to slip into the water himself.

Felix straightens when Cleonis moves past him, cheeks flushing. He lets out a disgruntled sound. "And you walk in before me too!" he huffs. He tries to quicken his pace, but his ankle is still giving him problems. "You're definitely oiling me down now, jerk."

"Do you ever do anything besides complain?" Cleonis asks conversationally, glaring at Felix as he wades into the dark water, golden lamplight reflecting off of it and obscuring their view of the bottom.

Felix tips his chin up, sniffing haughtily. He chooses not to answer, mostly because the truthful answer is not one he wants to admit to. He carefully lowers himself down over the edge, slipping in with a soft hiss. He whimpers again, his ankle no longer numb. "Come back here," he murmurs, looking up to Cleonis.

Cleonis rolls his eyes and heads back towards Felix, lifting his brows as if waiting for an order. "Yes, dominus?" he says mockingly.

Felix scowls at him, then very slowly turns, showing his back to Cleonis. "Let's see how gentle you can be," he calls over his shoulder, as if in challenge.

Cleonis sighs, rolling his eyes heavenward and praying for patience for a moment before he cups water in his hands, pouring it over Felix's back, running his rough-skinned hands over Felix's back to rub away the dirt. His hands slide over the boy's shoulder blades, back in towards his spine. His thumbs fit against the dip of Felix's spine, and his hands run downwards, sliding low on Felix's back, thumbs stopping at the top of curve of his backside, barely slipping into the crevice there before his hands are moving up again, dragging more water with them.

Felix sucks in a breath, thankfully muffled by the sudden pursing of his lips. He bites down on them a moment later, back rigid, more than a little overwhelmed by the feeling of Cleonis' hands on him. He hadn't known what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. He feels a blush rise to his cheeks, and he hastily convinces himself it's only because he hadn't really been touched by a man this way. Cleonis' hands are larger, and warm against his back, so close to his... He tightens his grip over the edge of the pool, shivering only slightly when Cleonis' hands trail back up. He feels.. almost disappointed.

Cleonis is oblivious to any effect he's having on Felix, because he's so focused on the way touching Felix's body is effecting him. He licks his lips, slowly dragging blunt nails down Felix's back, stopping at the curve of him again before he travels back up. He swallows thickly, then leans in to speak near Felix's ear. "How's this for gentle, motherfucker?"

Felix makes a soft sound, shying away from Cleonis' hot breath against his ear. "Shut the fuck up," he whispers hastily. "I won't be surprised if I wake up tomorrow covered in scratches and bruises. Haven't you ever touched a person before without wanting to snap their neck?"

Cleonis scoffs, hands resting on Felix's hips for a moment before they draw away abruptly. "Fine. If it's not to your satisfaction, you can wash your own back." Cleonis thinks he was being perfectly gentle, but has to acknowledge that his hands are naturally rough-skinned and strong, perhaps not the best for gentle tasks.

Felix throws a look over his shoulder, which might have been nasty if not for the bright red flush along his cheeks. "I didn't tell you to stop," he snaps. His hand moves through the dark water, trying to find one of Cleo's hand again.

Cleonis sighs, lifting his hands to Felix's back again and rolling his eyes. He drags them down Felix's spine again, the heel of his palm pressing firmly against Felix's muscles, smoothing out tension there. "You're such a brat," he grumbles, even though he keeps touching him.

"Shut up," Felix murmurs, slowly turning to face forward again. His arm is still outstretched, but he starts to withdraw it, curling his fingers into a little fist, the very tips of them brushing lightly over Cleonis' abdomen. He shivers again, hunching forward just a bit.

Cleonis' brow furrows at the sensation of Felix's hand brushing across his stomach, but he decides to ignore it, hands working their way down Felix's upper arms now. Felix's skin is smooth and white, looking so soft against his rough, tanned hands. Cleonis is a bit mesmerized by the sight of it, and it keeps him from even considering taking his hands off of Felix.

Felix licks at his lips, trying to focus on how Cleonis' hands should be relaxing him, instead of doing the exact opposite, and making his heart race the most its ever done. Cleonis' hands are larger than he thought they'd be, rough but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Slowly he rolls his shoulders, craning his neck this way and that, trying to help Cleonis along.

Cleonis bites the inside of his lip, watching Felix's shoulder blades move under his skin. He swallows a little, and then suddenly pulls his hands away, feeling as if he's tearing them from Felix's body, as if they'd started to meld into it. "Your stupid back is clean now," he says, with an air of finality. He was enjoying touching Felix far too much

Felix's eyes flutter open, and it's only then he realizes he'd closed them. He stands still, lost for a moment, then hastily glances over his shoulder, attempting a glare but failing somewhat. "Good," he murmurs. He lingers for a second, then jerkily steps away, moving to one of the stone benches along the wall, sinking down into it, the water up to his chest now. He waves his hand absently. "You may do whatever you need to do to attempt to be this clean, then."

Cleonis rolls his eyes and turns away from Felix, wading deeper into the dark water, sinking down under it to wet his hair. He rises up again, shaking back dark locks, lifting his arms to push his hair from his face, water sliding down his back, rinsing away the dust and dirt from the day. His skin is left clean, glistening and golden in the light from the lamps.

Felix bites down on his lip, glad Cleonis' back is to him, so he doesn't see the blush darkening on his cheeks. He lifts his hands to gently pat his cheeks, sure the warm water and steam are just getting to him. He holds his hand out then, looking it over. His skin is so light, compared to Cleonis he must look like a ghost. Hastily he tries to distract himself, turning to his other arm to unwrap the bandage Cleonis had made for him.

Cleonis turns to him, and he narrows his eyes a little when he sees Felix unwrapping his brace. "Hey, did I say you could take that off?" he says, starting to walk across the pool towards Felix.

Felix jumps, looking frightened for a moment, but then he recovers and returns Cleonis' glare. "It's getting wet," he protests.

"It's good for your ankle," Cleonis says, shaking his head. "We'll make another, don't take that one off. Your slave only brought half the fabric in Rome, I think we'll have enough to make another."

Felix pouts at Cleonis, the man close enough now that Felix has to actually lean his head back a bit just to make eye contact. "You can't talk to me like this," he mutters. "The others would be appalled."

"They're not here," Cleonis points out, lifting his brows. "Just you and me here, boy, and if you take off that brace I'll kick your ass."

Felix eyes Cleonis warily. "You wouldn't," he says, though he's not nearly as confident as he'd like to be. It had been Cleonis, after all, to give him the bruises on his wrist. "If you hurt me, you'd just have more things to tend to."

Cleonis rolls his eyes, then slides in to sit beside Felix on the bench, their bare thighs brushing when he does. "Don't you have a nurse or something? Why am I the one patching you up?"

"Because you hate it," answers Felix simply, tipping his chin up haughtily. Then he reaches down, pushing at Cleonis' thigh. "Who said you could sit next to me? You're getting me dirty again just being here."

Cleonis knocks his thigh back against Felix's, narrowing his eyes. "I'm just as clean as you are," he snaps back. "What, would you like me to stand?"

"You may sit over there," Felix says with a huff, reaching down with both hands now to push at him. Cleonis is much, much stronger than Felix, though, so even with all his effort, Felix barely makes the man budge.

Cleonis grips the side of the bench with one hand, using it to resist Felix's push, staying still and staring serenely at the opposite wall, as if Felix was nothing more than a calming breeze gusting against him. "What a lovely night this is," he sighs wistfully.

"I hate you," Felix says again, glaring daggers at the man's profile. "This is my bench," he declares, perfectly aware he has every right to it. "Sit on the other one. Now."

Cleonis leans back against the stones behind him, yawning a little and stretching languidly. "Nope," he says simply, carelessly, perfectly content just where he is.

Felix makes a short, angry sound, muffled behind his pursed lips. After a moment of just glaring, he straightens suddenly. "Fine," he says. "Fine. Be that way." Then suddenly he's swinging his feet up over the bench, draping his legs over Cleonis' lap, though he takes care to keep his knees bent just enough that he isn't really touching anything.. vital. He leans back, hands flat against the bench, facing Cleonis fully. "I am so comfortable," he says casually, which is a total lie.

Cleonis doesn't even look at Felix, but his hand rests on Felix's injured ankle, fingers curling around it and squeezing, slowly constricting. "Are you really?" he says conversationally.

"Ahhh--!" Felix jumps suddenly, the pain shooting up his leg, making his body jerk from the shock of it. His hand shoots out, slapping at Cleonis' hand, trying to shove it away. "Stop it stop it stop it stop it!"

Cleonis' hand relaxes, though it still rests on Felix's ankle, ready to squeeze at any moment. "So easy to control," he marvels, amazed by how easily Felix is weakened by his pain.

"You're an asshole," Felix seethes, just a little breathless from that earlier shock. His own hand rests over Cleonis' hand, ready to try and tear it away, the other on Cleonis' knee, steadying himself. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not built like a boulder."

"Pain isn't a big deal, you know," Cleonis says, looking over to Felix and lifting his brows. "And a man doesn't bow to it. Don't you realize how weak you are like this?"

Felix scowls at Cleonis, cheeks flushing in his embarrassment and shame. "Not all of us have had our heads beaten in so much that pain becomes nothing more than a bother," he throws scathingly.

"It's a good thing I'm your guard," Cleonis decides, taking his hand away from Felix's ankle and crossing his arms over his stomach instead. "You would be lost without me."

"Don't delude yourself into thinking you're more important than you really are," Felix mutters disdainfully. With Cleonis' hand gone, he starts to gently rub at his throbbing ankle, pouting like a child. "With the way things are going, you're more harm to me than anything else."

"But I always clean up my mess," Cleonis points out, smiling a little sweetly and then patting Felix's knee. "Come on, should get you into the cold bath and then back home. You need more ice and you need some rest."

"You? Clean? Amazing." Felix rolls his eyes, gingerly sliding his legs back down so he can stand, placing a hand behind him to grab at the bath's edge, the other pushing against Cleonis' shoulder. "It hurts even more now," he whines. "Thanks a lot."

"Quit bitching or I'll break it," Cleonis snaps, standing and hooking his arm around Felix instinctively to help him walk through the water towards the stairs.

"Don't give me a reason to bitch," Felix huffs, sliding his arm around Cleonis' broad shoulders, leaning against him again. "Can't you ice it twice in an hour?"

"Yeah, that's what you're supposed to do. I don't think the heat in here is good for it, really..." Cleonis shrugs, sure it will be fine, just a little more swollen than when they came in. He helps Felix out of the water, glad for the cool air and eager for the cold bath now after all that heat.

Felix waves his hand dismissively, as if he can't be bothered with remembering all the details for caring for an injured ankle. That's Cleonis' job anyway. He carefully steps out of the bath, creating pools around their feet as they straighten again. He makes a faint, frustrated sound, turning to Cleonis. "You're too tall. Hunch over," he says, trying to get a better grip around the man's shoulders.

"Shut up," Cleonis says instead, certainly not about to hunch on Felix's command. "I'm your guard, not your mother. I don't give a fuck if you're comfortable."

"I can't get a good grip," he says, showing how his hand just slips away from around Cleonis' shoulder. "If I don't get a good grip, I'll trip, then you'll have hurt me even more."

"I've got a good grip on you, you're fine," Cleonis says firmly, holding Cleonis a little tighter. "Just shut up, you're not going to trip. I've got you."

"Says the manhandler," Felix mutters, but he looks away, begrudgingly admitting to himself that Cleonis is quite strong, strong enough to handle him by himself. He lets out a soft sound once they reach the cold baths, smiling pleasantly at the cool air that hits their warm skin.

Cleonis is just as relieved by the cool air, and be breathes it deeply, guiding Felix towards the water. He grabs a strigil as they pass the hooks on the wall, offering it to Felix to use first, sure he'd complain otherwise.

Felix gingerly lowers himself down to one of the benches in the water, sitting quickly as if he were already tired out. He doesn't take the strigil from Cleonis though, simply smiling sweetly, and holding out his arms, expecting Cleonis to do it himself.

Cleonis lifts a brow, looking over Felix's arms. Spitefully, he grabs Felix's wrist to keep hold of his arm, and with the other hand he scrapes the blade roughly down Felix's skin, sure to change the boy's mind about having Cleonis clean him.

Felix scowls, uninjured leg kicked out at Cleonis' shin. He jerks his arms away, clutching it to his chest, the skin quickly reddening. "Of course," he mutters, making an angry grab for the strigil.

Cleonis looks a little smug, letting him take the strigil and then leaning against the wall of the bath, patiently waiting for his turn with it. "Fine, if you insist..." he says airily, gloating.

Felix mutters a few choice words under his breath, looking over his arm first before gently scraping over them both. He takes an especially longer time now, just to spite Cleonis.

Cleonis refuses to show his annoyance, looking serene and starting to hum tunelessly to himself, arms folded over his stomach as he waits with infuriating patience. He knows Felix wants him to crack, and he refuses to give the boy what he wants.

Felix throws an annoyed glance towards Cleonis. He sighs softly, exaggeratedly, and takes up a leg, letting it rest along the wall of the pool, showing his flexibility. He leans back on a hand, the other idly scraping the strigil along his leg, starting to hum a little tune himself.

Cleonis looks over to him, narrowing his eyes a little. He's almost annoyed with Felix for looking so good, and for making him think about him being so flexible. He glares, watching him for a beat and then forcing himself to look away. "You're an idiot," he informs him.

Felix's eyes flick back towards Cleonis, hardening. "Excuse me?" he asks, affronted, more so because he's almost positive that time that he hadn't actually done anything idiotic. "What a mouth you have," he snaps, leg sinking back down into the water. "You should spend more time washing that." He huffs, before chucking the strigil right at Cleonis.

Cleonis catches it one-handedly, glaring at Felix for a second before he turns away to begin sliding it over his own skin. "If you wanted someone to talk sweet to you, you should have hired a whore, not a gladiator."

Felix gives Cleonis a condescending little look, almost pitying. "You mean to say gladiators don't have lovers? Not that I'm surprised, being as crass as you are. I bet you don't even know what to do with a lover-- you'd probably try to kill the poor thing." He speaks as if he knows how to handle a lover, when it's quite the opposite. But Cleonis needn't know that.

Cleonis snickers, looking over at Felix as he slides the blade down his arm. "As if you've ever been with a woman, you anemic little twat. I'm sure the men are paying plenty attention to you, though.

"And why wouldn't they?" Felix snaps hastily, chest puffing out. "I'm gorgeous. The attention I receive is way more than what you can say, I'm sure. I'm desired," he thinks, "but you..." He shakes his head. "I pity the poor woman who had to touch you. I hope she was at least paid well."

"Not everyone has to pay for their women, you know, though I'm sure your father paid your mother well enough," Cleonis says casually, sliding the strigil down his stomach.

Felix's eyes fly wide open, leaning back as if he'd been physically hit. He jumps up to his feet (at least, as much as he can on an injured ankle), and clenches his fist at his sides. "You take that back," he says in a low, threatening tone.

Cleonis looks over to Felix mildly, lifting his brows faintly. "What? That she was paid well? If you insist she was cheap..."

Felix swipes his hand over the water's surface, splashing water right in Cleonis' face. He takes a few steps forward, meant to be threatening, but he wobbles on his injury. "My mother was a gorgeous, refined woman. You shut up right now."

Cleonis notices Felix's choice of words instantly - was. It stops him in his tracks, and he looks away from Felix, shrugging as if he's suddenly lost interest. "Whatever," he says simply, casually, though he feels an awful lot less like teasing Felix suddenly.

Felix looks away too, blinking rapidly, trying to hide the tears that had welled up in his eyes. He sniffles pathetically, before turning on his heel, back towards the steps. He crawls out of the baths, having to climb up on his hands and knees because he has nothing to hold on to if he were to walk, and tries to do it with as much dignity as he can muster.

Cleonis watches him, scowling a bit, tossing the strigil beside the bath and then following Felix. "Don't freak out. I didn't know she was dead," Cleonis says, not exactly gracefully.

"You don't know a lot of things," Felix throws back with a scowl, still vigilantly crawling towards a stool. When he finally reaches it, he's sitting straight and regal, as if he hadn't just subjected himself to such embarrassment.

"Yeah, whatever, but I'm sure you'd have made a joke about my mother if you thought of it, and you don't know if she's still alive," Cleonis defends, finding a vial of oil along the wall and carrying it over to Felix.

Felix's face screws up, lips pursed tight together because Cleonis has him there. He's careless like that. "She was beautiful," he says instead, glaring at a spot on the floor. "And respected. People loved her."

Cleonis wets his hands with the oil, touching them to Felix's shoulders without asking first and starting to smooth it into his skin. "I didn't know," he says simply, but he refuses to apologize.

Felix's shoulders are slumped, the fight draining out of him. After a few moments, he peeks over his shoulders, staring up at Cleonis with a childish pout. "Do you take it back?" he asks.

Cleonis is tempted to roll his eyes, but by some miracle he doesn't. He nods instead, fingers kneading gentle at Felix's back. "I take it back," he says, figuring he deserves to have to concede at least that much.

Felix looks away for a moment, as if considering. Then he nods, turning back to the front, seemingly satisfied. But after a moment, he speaks again, in a tone so tiny it can only be sincere. "She used to sing me to sleep. Will you?"

Cleonis' expression turns dry, and he shakes his head slowly. "No. No I will not," he says darkly, and seems to decide that makes them even, as he draws his hands away from Felix and starts to rub oil over his own arms instead.

Felix glares at Cleonis over his shoulder, though it's made mild by the pout still firmly attached to his lips. "It's your fault I'm sad in the first place," he tries to point out.

"Get over it," Cleonis says firmly, hanging the oil back on a random hook along the wall, then reaching for Felix to help him up. "Come on, let's get dressed."

Felix only looks more sour, though he lifts his arm for Cleonis to take, pushing against the stool to stand. "Oh good," he says dryly. "For a second there I thought you were actually a human being. What a scare."

Cleonis rolls his eyes, helping Felix walk back towards their clothes and leaning the other boy against a column as he pulls on his bracae, then grabs Felix's toga and shakes it out roughly, getting off a majority of the dirt. He returns to Felix, pulling him forward so Felix's shoulder leans against his chest as he starts to wind the toga around him messily.

Felix quirks a brow, looking down at Cleonis' handiwork dubiously. He looks up to Cleonis after a moment of fumbling on the other's part, and he smirks. "I suppose you aren't that great with your hands after all," he murmurs.

"Shut up," Cleonis growls, tying Felix's toga into a knot at his shoulder instead of a proper fold. "I don't wear these stupid things, just shut up."

"I suppose you'll learn eventually," sighs Felix mildly, which is his own stubborn way of conceding. He shifts against Cleonis once he's dressed again, turning partly so he's leaning with his back to Cleonis' chest instead, waiting to be taken back to his room.

Cleonis puts an arm around him, supporting him to help him walk. "You're just going to milk this ankle thing to death, aren't you?" he says darkly, already sure of it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," says Felix, pouting as if the very idea is absurd. But there's a smug little note to his voice. As they draw nearer to his room, he looks over at Cleonis, quietly gauging. "Did you fight today?"

Cleonis looks a little confused by the question, and he nods, then shakes his head. "Well no, not officially... I was practicing, sparring a bit with some of the others, but you interrupted me. Why?"

Felix ignores the sharp little tone of Cleonis' voice and tips his chin up. "I don't want my bodyguard slacking off while I sleep," he says, scoffing. "You'll retire to the slaves' quarters after I get settled, then you begin your duties again in the morning."

Cleonis scoffs softly, steering Felix along the path. "So you want me to tuck you in, basically?" he mocks.

Felix scowls darkly, bumping his elbow against Cleonis' side. "Do you have a problem with that? Well tough, I don't care. You won't even sing to me."

"No. I will not sing to you. Ever," Cleonis says, with an air of finality. He feels exhausted now that he's thinking about bed, and he wants nothing more than to get Felix into bed and find someplace to sleep himself.

"You probably have a really horrible voice," Felix agrees. "It's good that you can admit to it. That's always the first step."

"Shut up," Cleonis growls, shoving Felix a little, just enough to make him stumble on his ankle before he supports him again.

"Ow," snaps Felix, jabbing his elbow against Cleonis' rib again. "At this rate, I'll never be healed!" He huffs, then seems to realize something, his look turning smug and wicked. "Go on, then. Keep hurting me. You're only digging your grave deeper."

"What grave?" Cleonis snaps, narrowing his eyes at Felix. "What are you talking about?" He seems only annoyed, but talk of graves makes him nervous, even if he's said that he doesn't think Felix is the killing type.

Felix deadpans. "I mean you're only making it worse for yourself. The longer I stay injured, the longer you have to cater to me."

"What makes you think I'll cater to you?" Cleonis scoffs, ignoring the fact that he has been practically carrying Felix around and tending to him. "I'm not your nanny, brat."

"You are and you will continue to be so long as this ankle is in pain," Felix says decisively. He straightens a bit as they near his room, chin tipping back arrogantly. "Now see me to bed."

Cleonis honestly hopes Felix is stupid enough to have forgotten about the ice, as that would prolong this even further. Cleonis just wants to get to bed, dignity intact if at all possible. He guides Felix into his bedroom, helping him to the bed and lifting him a bit to help him onto it. "Where do your slaves stay?" he asks, clearly meaning to leave immediately.

Felix settles back down into the bed, leaning against the pillows. His eyes flick over to the bowl of melting ice, but briefly, then look to Cleonis, making as if he hadn't seen the ice at all. "Down the hall," he says, but doesn't bother to specify. "I expect you awake before I am, standing guard." He settles down then, turning his back to Cleonis, not bothering to say good night.

Neither does Cleonis, though he hesitates just a moment before he turns away. He has a nagging feeling that he should ice Felix's ankle, as if he owes it to him or something. The boy has promised to send money to his family, and for that Felix truly is grateful. Still, his pride doesn't let him stay, so he leaves Felix's room without another word.