"What do you think he eats?" Xel asks Iago in the same horrified tone as Cesare slumps off like, well, the sullen teenager he is. He pulls his sash and a few of the flat sort of incense holders that were going to be a sale out of an astral pocket, and tries to pull himself into a position to wrap his own leg up. This is the cause of more pallor and cold sweat, but he's hardly going to make noise like someone pathetic when he did this to himself on purpose.