Moving behind the chaise that Domina had settled into Patrocles simply stood behind her, watching as Manius walked off.  Clearly the master of the house was not well, but as he heard his wishes for them to stay he noted that Domina had conceded to what he knew must be against her wishes.  He did not understand why she hung on this man’s words as if they were her coming from the lips of her husband, his former master.  Yet he knew his duty was to stand silently by and do as he was bid.<br/><br/>Turning his attention to each of the other men and women on the balcony he noticed many of them turning and leaving, yet Domina remained and so did he and Caris.  He desperately wanted to speak back at the little bitch and tell her that he did not long for her friendship any more than she seemed willing to give it, simply to air their differences and to have out what would prevent them from working together towards the common goal of serving Livia to the best of their ability.<em>Hit in the head too many times?  Fuck that… if that were true he would not be the unscarred champion that he was would he.  She should try to live one day in his sandals.  Come down on the sands with me for a little while you mangy bitch and I’ll show you a thing or two to give you reason to dislike me thus.</em><br/><br/>Domina had not spoken to him when he was summoned, so he assumed that she simply wanted him close at hand, and did not need him for anything at the moment, so he allowed his posture to relax a little.  He gazed out from the balcony onto the sands below, and watched as the matches were prepared to start.  The first match started and a small but quick man darted ahead, leading with his sword at an unarmed man.  The unarmed man, that resembled more of a small hillside than a man was darker skinned, but not so dark as to be from Arifcanus.  The man side stepped deftly and avoided the smaller man’s thrusts.  Time after time, thrust after thrust the big man turned away, rolling, sidestepping; giving ground, but warily looking for opportunity to strike back.  The unarmed man, while large and muscled possessed a certain quickness about him that Patrocles had seen rivaled by few.  He would be a dangerous adversary to any man, trained or not.  He secretly wished that their home ludus had more gladiators like him.  Then it happened, the bladed man thrust and over extended, becoming off balance, perhaps tiring too quickly, and the darker skinned man struck.  The blade flew from his grasp, landing in the san d some distance away, but instead of scrambling for it the large man proceeded to pummel the man into a bloody pulp.  His huge fists rained down tirelessly and without mercy.  He shrugged off any attempt that the bloodied man made to defend himself of strike back.  Then, as the man stomped onto his opponent’s throat it was over.  As with all gladiators his eyes looked up towards the crowd and what ever approval could be garnered from the adoring fans.  Patrocles saw few people who would be able to satisfy that desire.  Recognizing the well fought battle, and hoping that no one would take notice of his sign of respect, Patrocles nodded toward the man on the sands below.<br/>