You never say 'Good day!', Naevolus, though you always say it back. Even crows croak it first as often as not. Why must you wait till I've done it, Naevolus? Please explain: because I don't see you as a better man than me, or more senior. My reputation's earned me bounties from the Caesars, ex- and current, and they've awarded me the rights of a father of three. All kinds of people read me: fame's made mine a name to conjure with across the civilised world, and I didn't even have to die first. And here's another thing: Rome's seen me tribune; the seat I sit in, the usher's turfed you out of. At my prompting, many are now made citizens by Caesar's gift; I doubt you can count so many slaves. Then again — you take it up the arse, and you've a cute way of shaking it. You've got me there, Naevolus; you win. Good day!