Gaia: I stand before Petronius with obvious charms, and all he can do is prattle about the House of Batiatus. I fear I've lost delicate touch.
Lucretia: Your touch is many things, delicate not among them.
Gaia: You are of a mood.
Lucretia: If word of what we have offered has spread to Petronius, how long before it lights on Titus' ear?
Gaia: Perhaps it should. The shock would no doubt end the old goat.