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The King of Ithaca gasps, leaning forward and reaching out both arms towards Achilles, hands opening and closing like a kid asking to be given something. His wine cup falls to the ground, forgotten.
“Pennyyyy! You’re hereee!”
Everyone in the circle freezes, including Agamemnon, who is at least sober enough to understand what was just said.
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Or; Odysseus has a bit too much wine and mistakes one half Nereid (Achilles) for another half Naiad (His wife). This is not, actually, that bad.
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“What are we to tell him in the morning? When he wakes up chitonless in bed with us?” he asks. [...]
“The truth, probably. He got drunk, thought you were Penelope, and clung to you like a stubborn leech.”
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