Date: 2008-10-23 03:37 pm (UTC)
Twisting on a heel, Cesare turns around, then leans back, elbows on the wrought iron. Gods above and below, but the boy is beautiful. Not like the shameless brats of Ponte Sisto with their long lashes and sultry pouts, their blunt "business, master?" and their ugly leers once things got serious.

No, it's just a beautiful youth, fair and downy where Astorre was dark and smouldering. "Of course there's call to be shy," Cesare laughs. "The young man knows better than to talk to strangers, Isabella mia. God knows what they're up to." He raises one eyebrow, smirks to show off dimples.

His eyes follow the kid's gaze, down Isabel's perfect, shadowed neckline. He doesn't know what it is, but he would kill to put his head there. Lick her sweat.

Then he starts gnawing his bottom lip. - Wait, that was a strange thought. Of course he enjoys a good cleavage, as much as the next man, but... not enough to go all pazzo over it. Besides, he can't even remember whether she sweats like other people.

"We were just talking, my friend Isabel and I," he offers softly, "wondering whether you're from around here. You look lost."
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