Propping himself up on his elbows, Cesare fidgets a bit, then lowers his eyes again, suddenly awash with shame. It never crossed his mind... that others could have been there, too, before coming here. Not even after everything he's heard from the expatriate crowd down at the café.
Embarrassed, he clears his throat and studies how Xellos handles the saucepan. "How many times have... did you..." His voice does a squeaky flip. "Bon Déu, Master Xellos. I am sorry."