There was a time Cesare prided himself to know the human soul, but it turned out he didn't; he knew his, and his alone, and his error, his hubris had come to slap and stare later -- so he doesn't even pretend to understand the ripple of emotions that move underneath Xellos's smoothly colourful surface - it's like watching a cat chase something underneath a blanket, tail lashing, pawing and clawing, then lapsing into stillness, then fighting the covers again.
"I commend you for your fortitude and virtù. Even so, even once is one time too many, Master Xellos," he says with quiet respect. "Strolling into Hell... have you mentioned this to Messer Crowley?"