<strong>~Galo, Infermary~ ~Cariad, written by Damned Eternally~</strong><br/><br/>Galo watched in wicked amusement as Autolycus’ eyes snapped open, alarmed.<em>Caught. </em><div class="floatright">(http://i47.photobucket.com/albums/f162/shadowjewel/Character%20pics/GaloICPic.jpg)</div><br/><em>Ah, not so distant after all, dear Autolycus.</em>He thought, gleefully. Was that embarrassment he saw, being covered by that distant mask? Wonderful! So the man was human after all. Not as flustered as he would have hoped but still, it did not do to curse small blessings.<br/><br/>As Autolycus pulled himself away from the small, dark haired woman, Galo took the time to take in the finer details laid out before him. The battered state of both woman caught his eye first; one has been lashed, the other badly beaten. He took note of the unusual tattoos covering the smaller woman and how the other cringed, flushed with arousal and perhaps shame. She seemed afraid and withdrawn, that one. Galo was not surprised, though whatever sympathy he felt could not be acted upon now with Autolycus’ poor humour steadily filling the air. It was, after all, in his best interest to at least stay in moderately good relations with the man considering how often he was required to work with him. Now, he would simply wait for a cue from the medicus.<br/><br/>As Autolycus pulled away from the woman he had just coupled with to move around the table, Galo’s gaze was drawn by the movement, seeing the stains upon his tunic; blood, smears of healing balms, pastes and, unless he was very much mistaken, semen. Galo felt his eyebrows begin to reach towards his hairline. How... interesting. He hadn’t known the man had it in him!<br/><br/><strong>"Galo,"</strong>Autolycus said tersely, glaring through narrowed eyes, lips pursed in thought.<br/><br/>Galo inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement, waiting and watching. Autolycus was tense, which was doing nothing to help Galo smooth his features into neutrality; it was so rare for the man to be outwardly phased by anything that, as much as Galo respected the medicus’ work, opportunities like this were to be savoured.<br/><br/>Eventually, the other man turned his back to him, reaching for a bucket and sponge that lay discarded by the bed. Rinsing then wringing out the sponge, Autolyus began to wash the woman on the bed in front of him, saying,<strong>“There’s a clean tunic on the chest in my room. If you could get that for me?”</strong>The tone of Autolycus’ voice was neutral, almost disinterested to Galo’s ears, as though he were simply tending to another patient. Then glancing at the other woman who looked to be withdrawing even further into herself, he added,<strong>“And something for her too, I think.”</strong><br/><br/><em>Ah, so we are playing it like that, are we?</em>While the thought was slightly sobering and Galo knew better then to mistake the medicus’ demands for a request, he still had half an ear to the shuffling outside and was keenly aware of the slight pressure at his back of someone attempting to tentatively open the door.  While the return to formality would normally have dampened his humour, at least on the outside, this time his smirk remained firmly in place; Galo decided to stay put for a moment longer. This would be worth it.<br/><br/>He watched for a second, hoping for one of the slaves outside to call out and get that one last rise out of the ruffled medicus. It was now that he finally noticed the dark, overly dilated eyes of the tattooed woman, her vacant look and unsteady posture. Galo’s smirk faded slightly, the beginnings of a frown pinching between his brows and lining his forehead. She was drugged?<br/><br/>Galo’s amusement finally faded as he regarded the medicus and the woman he was tending to. This was unexpected; Why was she drugged? Had she lashed out as new blood sometimes did? It would explain the crate sitting to the side of the room. Galo’s thoughts turned darker as moments passed. If she was dangerous, why fuck her like this? To break her faster? He knew too well that the tactic was, depending on the Roman in question, widely used with some of the difficult slaves, or indeed, the pretty ones. Eyes narrowed slightly, Galo watched Autolyucs; Had the Greek healer finally become truly Roman?<br/><br/>Seemingly lost to his own thoughts himself, Autolyucs called back to Galo again,<strong>“After that, you can help me get this one back in her cage.”</strong><br/><br/>Galo’s own expression turned hard for a moment -<em>so, she is a fighter...</em>- before a timid knock on the door at his back broke his thoughts. A pale mockery of his previous amused expression twisted his lips as he called back though the door, his voice loud to be heard clearly, “Leave the bags out there, I will deal with them soon. Get back to work, all of you.”<br/><br/>Muffled acknowledgements could be heard through the door followed by the soft sounds of bags upon the sand.<br/><br/>Galo finally pushed away from the door and moved to the small corner of the infirmary set aside for his use to put his own packages down. Glancing back to Autolyus, his expression now clear, he set about getting the items requested.<br/><br/>He collected two tunics, the smallest he could find to fit the women. Then, as he walked back, he snatched a well known jar from his work bench containing a mix of herbs to be taken with wine, intended to prevent conception. He assumed that Autolycus did not plan on being a farther at this particular point in time - nor with this particular young woman.<br/><br/>Placing both the jar and a tunic on the bed next to Autolycus as he walked passed, Galo took the other tunic, draped over his arm, to the second slave who sat with her legs curled tight against her body. He slowed as he neared her, no sudden movements, his motions careful.<br/><br/>Looking over her, he could see that the welts on her back were fresh, although they had been treated.<br/><br/>His voice low and calm, he asked, “Do you understand me? Your back is hurt, so I going to help you put this on.”<br/><br/><strong>Her hazel eyes following the man who was walking towards her. Her body shifting as the she fought the flight instinct within her. Cariad's eyes wide as the man looked over her. His voice causing her to relax slightly, her body seeming to react to the gentle tone, the blank expression on her face answering any question or query the man may have had.</strong><br/><br/>Galo frowned. So, she did not understand Latin? That always made things difficult. He considered for a moment before holding the tunic up for her to put her arms through, giving her the option to act without forcing her. The early days were always difficult, might as well offer her a small chance to act on her own. It was amazing how much of an effect these small things could sometimes have.<br/><br/>After a moment, Galo made to try and talk to her again. Not having any way of knowing what her native language was until she spoke and knowing the shock of capture could render a small number of slaves mute, sometimes permanently, Galo spoke quietly, in his native Gaulish tongue.<em>“How about now? Can you understand me now?”</em>He ignored the weight in his throat and chest that came from speaking to someone else like this...<br/><br/>If this didn’t work, he had a few other Celtic dialects he could try. He wasn’t fluent in them, though. He only hoped there wouldn’t be another miss translation like there was with the very tall male slave a few years ago who originated from the far east of his own homeland. He didn’t want to spend days trying to clear up another mess like that...<br/><br/>And, if she wasn’t a Celt, then for her sake she had better hope there was another slave in the house who could speak with her in her own language. It was very lonely being lost with no voice...