[ Matt is wearing a sea-green toga that once again has a harness element, this time with Venusian pearls, roses, and seashells. More importantly, perhaps, he's wearing a metal tag around his throat that bears his own name: MATT.
He turns towards the word grape, fired off like a bullet, and finds himself meeting the somewhat sour gaze of a redheaded woman who seems to have escaped the Roman holiday vibes. He looks her up and down. ]
No way, [ he protests, giving an uncomfortable laugh. ] Are they making you do this?
[ Matt hasn't cottoned on until this moment that not all the servants are serving happily. Rich boy out of touch with the underlying conditions of labor, news at eleven. ]
veni vidi vici
He turns towards the word grape, fired off like a bullet, and finds himself meeting the somewhat sour gaze of a redheaded woman who seems to have escaped the Roman holiday vibes. He looks her up and down. ]
No way, [ he protests, giving an uncomfortable laugh. ] Are they making you do this?
[ Matt hasn't cottoned on until this moment that not all the servants are serving happily. Rich boy out of touch with the underlying conditions of labor, news at eleven. ]
This is so fucking stupid.