Displeased. Irritated. Frustrated. To Marcus, those all seemed to be accurate descriptors for what he was feeling as he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.
Marcus continued to list off synonyms- angry, upset, irate- hoping that the dull activity would help him to fall asleep. He had retired to bed hours ago; earlier than usual, but it hadn't done him any good. At least his leg wasn't bothering him as much as the night before. Besides the ill-fated trip to the market, Marcus had stayed off it most of the day.

Marcus rubbed his eyes wearily. He really was tired- but of course, that slave was getting in the way of things. Esca seemed to be the running theme of the day, and not in a good way. It was more of a, 'can't stop picturing him in various sexually compromising situations,' way. Marcus didn't even particularly enjoy those thoughts- they were nothing more than a nuisance, really. Especially since they absolutely refused to stop.

Marcus sat up, looking around his bedchamber. It was suffocating, to be trapped in such a confined room with only his thoughts to plague him. Standing carefully, Marcus grabbed his cane and made his way to the other bedchambers. He moved as quietly as he could, his heart pounding. He was sure that he would wake the whole house; that everyone would come running into the hallway to see what the perverted cripple was doing up so late. But even the thought of being caught didn't stop Marcus' legs from carrying him forward towards Esca's room.

Marcus settled outside of Esca's door and listened. He was sure that if he concentrated, he could hear Esca breathing; see the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. Somewhat satisfied, Marcus returned to his room and slept fitfully for the rest of the night.

On the fourth night, Marcus began to worry that he was losing his mind. Sane men didn't stand outside the doors of others, listening to them sleep in the middle of the night. But these reoccurring excursions seemed to be the only thing that calmed him down lately. If he hoped to get a decent amount of sleep, this strange indulgence would have to be endured.

Marcus sat outside of Esca's room that night, not bothering to be overly discreet. His visits to Esca's door had grown longer and longer- he had been there for at least twenty minutes the night before.

Tonight, however, he hadn't been there nearly as long. It had only been a minute or two so far, and the chambers were shrouded in eerie silence. Marcus pulled his good knee up to his chest and closed his eyes, content to just listen.

"What are you doing there?"

Marcus just about jumped out of his skin at the slave's door opening; Esca poking his head out of the gap. The roman scrambled about, grabbing his cane and hurrying to his feet. "I- I fell-" Marcus shut his mouth, trying to think of an alibi. Why hadn't he thought of one sooner, just in case?

"You fell?" Esca echoed, stepping out fully into the hallway. He shut the door behind him and, judging by the look on his face, he was having a hard time believing Marcus' excuse.

Marcus mentally cursed his weakness for fast-thinking. "Yes," he replied. "I fell and upset my leg, so I was trying to catch my breath before continuing on my way."

Esca's expression didn't change. "And where were you going?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Oh." Esca brought his hand up to his face, as if in thought. "By any chance, might it be the same place you were going last night?"
Marcus' heart dropped.

"Because I could have sworn that I heard you last night too. The noise that cane makes is very distinctive…" Esca rapped his knuckles against the wall, mimicking the tap of the cane against the ground. "And maybe even the night before that…"

"You're mistaken," Marcus retorted, his mouth dry. "You're hearing things."

"Mm," Esca murmured. "Maybe." He was quiet as he watched Marcus awkwardly hobble away, and the slave resolved to figure out just what his master was doing so late at night.