Cesare almost jumps back a step, bowled over by Xellos's palpable energy: it's practically squirting from every pore. Recovering, Cesare smiles easily and bows back - the movement not quite as deep and fluid, but with what courtly flourish he can muster.
"Buona sera, Master Xellos. You will be disappointed in me, I know it." He looks pre-emptively chagrined. "Would you have some bread and olives while I think?" He keeps one eye fastened on the embossed Palle, unsure of what to do should Giovanni de' Medici show up here. His first instinct would prompt him to bash the flabby face in, which would be... graceless. "Quite the unusual little book Madonna has," he observes again, nodding. "And you are very enterprising, friend Xellos. Your talents seem limitless."