"Victoria. Che bello. There is power in names, I am sure you are aware. To be named Victory, ah, how fortuitous..." His eyes graze her thigh, and he blinks, slowly. "My father must have thought along similar lines when he baptized me. Cesare, emperor or nothing." It comes out as an afterthought, just the tiniest bit bitter. Emperor, or nothing. Oh well.
"Languages? Oh, only a few. We spoke Catalan at home. My..." - oh no, don't - "my wife was French. An Occitanian from Navarra, actually, but she was brought up French. She didn't speak Italian, so we had to meet somewhere." He has to make an effort not to stare holes into Victoire's leg. "Not that we were married for a long time."