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"Turtles for ivory?"
It's all Cleopatra says; no greetings, no insults. She's expressionless, and it unnerves you, even after all this time.
"I'd need more than just turtles," you say.
"Turtles plus one gold per turn," she says, voice flat. "No? Two, then? Three?"
You don't like the way she looks at you. "Three is fine."
She blinks, the only acknowledgement of your new deal, and leaves. You shudder. No matter how much the other leaders draw your ire, you'd take any of them in a heartbeat over her.
Emotionless, inscrutable, unyielding. The once-proud Cleopatra, reduced to the Player's puppet.