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“Must you always wear your skirt so short?” Caesar asked. “The people will confuse you for a pleb.” Antony’s breath caught in his throat as the older man readjusted his clothes for him.
“As if anyone could confuse me for a pleb,” Antony chuckled, trying to sound like his usual, cocky self. He ignored the way his cheeks burned. He took a sip of wine before turning and retorting; “I simply believe everyone deserves to gaze at my thighs.”
