<strong>~Doctore, Bathhouse~</strong><br/><br/>The men straighten up and seem to accept their fate, and the Doctore pauses briefly, whip in hand as he looks over the assembled gladiators.  A few of the men he picked out at random, staring to their faces a moment.  Each of the three quietly tilted or spun his eyes to Berengarius, very subtly, making no other gesture.<br/><br/>At the vote of the few and the trust of the unanimous but unspoken claim of his men, the Doctore spun towards Berengarius, gesturing his dismissal.  "Just have him taken away, then.  One of these men is still salvageable. "  His breathing had slowed to some degree, his temper cooling, but like a blade once cooled, much stronger and hardened.<br/><br/>"You, then."  He looked straight to Cinegtorix, patience waning but momentarily focused.  "You claim that words will so injure you?"  The whip in his hand sprung to life, spinning around in his grip and winding up.  "Your life is so easily brought to wounds and torment?"  Despite his respect for the man's willingness to stand up and fight, which he far more respected than a man who only resorted to words backed by empty air, he had much to teach.  "Fool.  Learn what true pain is, and come to know that a gladiator can learn to withstand all forms of punishment."  His hand reeled back and then snapped the whip towards Cinegtorix, intending a single slash of pain across the chest.<br/><br/>He'd been about to leave once more when he saw the pretty young woman with her head bowed, moving over towards him.  He nodded to Nakia and inclined his head, listening to what she would tell him.