"Ser Xellos. Madonna Minerva." Cesare has ambled in, looking for distraction - his mind is a-wheeling with the beautiful, beautiful possibilities of the recent Lex Berlusconi (which strikes him as eminently sensible and most beneficial, considering that he fully intends to make use of it in the not too distant future) when he notices the leather bound book in the nonna's hand.
"Medici Palle?" He kisses her hand once it's free, then cocks one eyebrow, masking his curiosity with good humour.