"Do you ever grow tired of being yourself?"
Quintus narrowed his eyes on the other, while sitting upon the rock and basking in the merciless sun.
"As opposed to being... whom else? Hm?"
Cicero's head cants to the side, his long hair curtaining his face along with it. The scribbling in his notebook ceased- notes no doubt about this current conversation they were having just now.
Or was it an interrogation? Quintus sure was an amusing sort.
"The elderly sure do ask the darndest questions! Always waxing poetic and philosophizing in their age.
Unless, of course, that was meant to be a personal dig, Quintus. I am quite content as I am. Projection will do you no favors, you know."
The lie is easily smoothed over by shifting the perspective back onto the Decanus before him.
