<div align="center"><em>Autolycus, trying to make Sorcha more comfortable<br/>Infirmary</em></div><hr/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v200/Prakkie/Medicus.jpg)</div>Autolycus frowned as he saw Sorcha hide the pottery shards in the folds of her tunic. So much for being on her best behavior. If anything were to convince him he was doing the right thing, leaving her in her cage, then that did.<br/><br/>"I know," he said as she dry-heaved, complained about the cage being dirty. Filthy straw, the overpowering smell of boar piss... It seemed no-one had bothered to clean the cage since it's last inhabitant had left to be slaughtered in the animal games. It was no way to keep anyone. But he saw no way to help it at the moment, not without opening the cage.<br/><br/>Instead, he grabbed a new bowl for her, a wooden one. Not making that mistake again. He filled it with the drink he'd given her before, the sour wine called<em>oxos</em>, but without the drugs this time and set it down by the cage along with a piece of bread left over from the morning's breakfast. Next he took his wax tablet and stylus from the table and sat down by the cage again. He used the flat end of the stylus to erase some of his earlier scribbles, then began to note down the signs the Pict had made and a rudimentary translation of them. The one for her name -<em>Σορχα</em>- the one for his name -<em>Αὐτόλυκος</em>- and then the new one on her thigh. "A man..." he guessed as she tried to explain what it meant, "A lover...?" Yes, that seemed about right, and he noted that down as well before pointing to one of her other marks, wanting to know the meaning of that too.<br/><br/>The message was clear enough. He'd do his best to make her comfortable, he'd talk to her and try to understand her better... But he would not let her out.