“That’s a fine polish job,” Coriolanus replied. Sejanus tensed at the implication that he was, what, a suck-up? A lackey? Coriolanus let it build a moment before he diffused it. “I should know. I do all Satyria’s wine goblets.” Sejanus relaxed at that. “Really?” “No, not really. But only because she hasn’t thought of it,” said Coriolanus, seesawing between disdain and camaraderie.
Can't wait for him to die.
