Luckily, Simba knew when to play "dead". Zahira threw her arms in the air. "Victory!!", she screamed to the hollering masses. It had been the last fight in the arena for today, and now they'd spend their spare time together. Thank the gods there was a pub for the gladiators in the arena's courtyard. Thaddeus sat in a nice quiet corner of the courtyard and sharpened his sword. From time to time, one of the gladiators stumbled out of the pub, sometimes still humming the bard's last song. Thaddeus chuckled. They knew how to put up a fight, that fellows, if with sword or with tankard. But then, even he stared at the pub's door, flabbergasted. Two gladiators stumbled out of it, as usual. What was unusual was one of them - the lion Simba! And from the looks of it, completely wasted. He "walked" on his hind legs, supporting and being supported by Zahira, the female net fighter. She still had the tankard half full with ale and spilled some of it every other step. Both of them still bawled - kind of - the last song. Simba even had one of Zahira's shoes dangling from his paw. But where was the other? They staggered past Thaddeus without noticing him. Thaddeus burst into laughter when they were gone. He'd never ever forget that sight in his entire life!