"Herbs." Cesare throws Iago an incredulous glance. "Don Xellos may wield many things, but I haven't seen him with herbs yet," he states uneasily. His left hand sneaks under his shoulder, feeling under his t-shirt. It's an ugly scar, and the pain sometimes leaves him breathless, but he valiantly waves it away. "Oh, it's... it's only when the weather changes." He doesn't mention that it gets bad enough to make him bed-ridden, and that his frame twists and shudders around the pain. "No, no, you're... you're right in suggesting it. Don Xellos offered his help already, he did." He scratches his nape. "I guess I... just don't want to think about it yet."
It would mean waking up with scars where his skin is smooth now, and with knotted muscle where's he whippet lean. He's just not sure it's a good trade. He suspects sex might better though. Not as hasty.