Cassius laughed at the prod to his accent, a sound that made his wound hurt. "Ah, what did I say about making me laugh you gaul fuck." He wheezed in pain as he carefully straightened himself out. "Honestly, it may less be the accent, more just your language that sounds like a dying goat, my friend." He huffed, slowly relaxing back into his cot.
He snorted at his jibe to his stage name. "I'm still guessing you'll be 'The mouse-cocked gaul'. Imagine it, people crying it out on the stands. 'Mouse cock, mouse cock, mouse cock!'" He cupped his hands over his mouth to imitate the distant roaring of a crowd before laughing gently, letting his hands fall carefully to lay across his chest.
He snorted at his jibe to his stage name. "I'm still guessing you'll be 'The mouse-cocked gaul'. Imagine it, people crying it out on the stands. 'Mouse cock, mouse cock, mouse cock!'" He cupped his hands over his mouth to imitate the distant roaring of a crowd before laughing gently, letting his hands fall carefully to lay across his chest.