It's heady, good earth there, with just the right amount of heavyness sliding down the thin walls of the glass, and Cesare darts Iago a glance and a nod. "Thank you," he smiles, relaxing a bit now that Iago isn't breathing down his neck right from the start. "Salute."
"I don't understand why he did that," he says, propping his chin in his hand. "He insisted it was to make him better." But he got off on the pain and we had to try and stop him and drag him out by the scuff and what a roaring success that was. And then, because he's unlearnt manners and his mind is jumpy and he can't help staring at Iago, "Umm, when. When did you... change back?"