Q&A

This got super long, sorry about that. And if it's cringy, then call me cringy, it was fun to write haha.

X: "Thank you so much for joining our Q&A session with the cast of Defiled Hearts. So, our first question is aimed at you, Antonia."

Antonia perks up. "Wow! Ask away!"

X: "What do you like about your uncles Niall and Marcus?"

Her face falls. "A question about those two dimwits?"

Both of the men frown at the statement.

A: "What do I like about them?" She takes a look at her uncles, her nose wrinkled as she ponders on her options. "I suppose they both smell good."

Niall gives her a smile and a nod. "Thank you kindly, Antonia."

A: "Unless there's any poop involved in their morning ritual." She looks pointedly at Niall.

X: "Good, good. What do you think they could work on?"

A: "Well, that's a long list. Do I have to choose just one?"

X: "Preferably, yes."

A: "Uncle Marcus should work on his sense of humor." She shakes her head. "He would live longer. Thank Minerva I'm here to help him with that."

Marcus mutters something under his breath.

A: "I'm not sure who wants him to live longer but that's the job I was given by the gods themselves."

X: "Yes, good. What about Niall?"

A: "He should learn to speak for himself."

Niall raises his brows. "What are you talking about? I do speak for myself."

A: "Uncle, you're a bit of a doormat, to be honest. You lie in order to avoid conflict and sometimes you smell like poop."

N: "What—"

X: "Yes, that much was established already. Let's move on to you, lady Camilla."

Camilla gives a small nod, readying herself.

X: "Is there anything you like about your current husband?"

She sneers. "Do I really need to answer?"

X: "Yes, please. People are eager to know."

C: "Ugh. Well…" She takes a look at the Legate, her nose as wrinkled as Antonia's was. "He's… tidy."

X: "Tidy?"

C: "Yes. He cleans after himself. Both in terms of personal hygiene and around the house."

The Legate smiles proudly.

X: "Moving on: On a scale from 1 - 10, (1 being 'couldn't care less if they dropped dead in front of me' and 10 being 'the most precious thing ever, can do no wrong') where would you rank Marcus?"

C: "1."

Marcus nods in understanding.

X: "What about Tinsae?"

C: "10."

Tinsae gives her a smile.

X: "Niall?"

She ponders for a moment. "It's a… 6."

Niall beams at her. "I'll take that."

X: "Antonia?"

C: "Hm. 10."

Antonia gives her a wide smile. "I love you, Auntie."

C: "I love you, too, sweetheart."

X: "What about the Legate?"

C: "2."

The Legate nods and smiles "It's better than 1!"

X: "Legate, sir, I have a question for you too."

The Legate perks up. "I didn't expect this. When I was invited, I thought it was a prank."

X: "No pranks here, sir. The audience is dying to know: how do you feel about toe socks?"

L: "Toe socks? I don't think I'm familiar with the concept."

X: "They are socks that have been knitted so that each toe is individually encased the same way as fingers within a glove."

The Legate nods slowly. "I see… That sounds like a wonderful idea! I would like one of those immediately. Someone will have to knit—"

X: "Sir, knitting hasn't been invented yet."

L: "Oh." He pouts.

X: "Moving on to you, Marcus."

Marcus nods. "Took you long enough."

X: "How well have you read 'The Art of Love'?"

M: "I've read it once before. It's a decent piece of writing but mainly I keep it on my shelf to get reactions out of people."

X: "So, you're a troll, basically."

M: "What? What does that Northern mythology creature have to do with me?"

X: "Never mind. Then there's another question: If you could decide, what would you do instead of being in the military?"

M: "Hm. I would… be a…"

A long moment of silence.

X: "We are on the clock here, Marcus. Do you want me to repeat the ques—"

M: "…A poet."

Camilla bursts out laughing.

X: "Thank you, Marcus. Please, no fighting. Now, Niall."

Niall perks up.

X: "What is your favorite plant/herb?"

N: "That's a tough one… I think it's a… black pepper. It's wonderful. We didn't have those in Hibernia. I put it everywhere."

X: "I think I saw you putting some in your wine earlier."

N: "Yes. It packs a great punch."

X: "Indeed. Then, returning to the previous topic: the poop. Where did you learn to put it in your face? Also, to quote the concerned person in question: 'WHY would you even agree to put poop on your face, NIALL PLEASE'?"

Niall's face falls. "It's not that weird. It's actually really expensive and it's only crocodile poop. I don't just go around randomly picking up poop to put on my face."

X: "No one has accused you of that, Niall. Where did you learn that poop is great for your… skin? I presume that's why you do that."

N: "Why else would I do it?" He pouts. "I learned it from Marcus's mother. She taught me everything about cosmetic use of herbs and stuff."

Marcus nods. "They both ran about the house wearing poop on their faces."

N: "No, we—"

X: "Moving on. Tinsae: What moment made you go, and excuse my language: 'These fucking Romans, I SWEAR…'?"

T: "Not a lot of things would make me think that. But if you want me to answer that question, I'm sorry but I have to bring the mood down a little."

X: "Of course."

T: "I… hate how the Romans treat their little ones. The children and animals. That's when I have resorted to cursing them into the deepest depths of the Underworld."

Camilla nods. "We would deserve that."

X: "I see. Then, what would you do if someone poured milk in that 'liquid acid' of yours?"

Tinsae's shoulders relax before she looks up as if in thought. "I haven't thought about that. That sounds quaint. I love that."

X: "You wouldn't mind?"

T: "I haven't tried that, so I couldn't say. It's always good to try new things."

X: "Indeed. Now, I think we have Quinn here somewhere."

Quinn steps into view.

X: "Yes, good. Now tell us: what was your favorite place in your old home and why?"

Q: "The grove. The MC loves it."

X: "Yes, but we were talking about your favorite—"

Q: "The grove."

X: "Um. Yes. Er. Thank you. That will do. Here is the final question, and it's aimed at you all: would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses?"

M: "What kind of a question is that?"

X: "Just answer the question to the best of your abilities."

Niall frowns at the thought. "Have you even seen ducks? They have razor-teeth. I would fight the duck-sized horses."

T: "But there are a hundred of them. They bite, too."

N: "Yeah, but ducks are terrifying. I would punch the miniature horses."

X: "Thank you, Niall. This is a good place to end the session: the mental image of Niall punching little horses."

N: "I wouldn't actually—"

X: "The question didn't specify that they are attacking you."

N: "I thought it was a given—"

X: "Alas, the thought of Niall's animal abuse is where we end this. Thank you all for coming."