He clings to life like a wildcat with a slab of bloody meat, refusing to let go, refusing to wither and die, as everybody in this ludus would so very much love to see him do. He is not blind to the irritation this causes, can see the looks in the eyes of his masters each time he rises from a strike they wish so very badly would cut him down.
It is now he sees that very look in the eyes of Batiatus' wife Lucretia. Still very much the caged ( but feral ) cat, it is all Spartacus can do to challenge it.
"Domina." A pause, and brows rise while Spartacus thinks upon the words he'll speak. A subtle reminder that he yet lives, where all wish to see him fail, perhaps to be uttered with feigned obedience. "Do my victories not please you?"
Would that they had been Crixus'.
