"Are we not?" James asks, moving away slightly from the crowd and the stall, as in truth he would much prefer to talk to the man who seems so happy to offer himself up as a guide. "In my experience, peace is simply a time to reorganise your men before the next battle. But things may be different here."

He glances down at himself. As strange as the tunica might seem he wasn't uncomfortable in it within Rome, but there it was the same costume everyone wore, save the extremely wealthy and the soldiery. He hadn't felt out of place, once he'd grown accustomed to the breeze around his knees.

Now he feels very much out of place.

"Italy, most recently, Britain by birth. I am afraid I have no money, as of the moment. But the name of a tailor would be most welcome."