Anora took pause at the tinge of regret in Pahn’s voice.
	[color=violet]“He’s… where we got the term from,”[/color] she said slowly, her gaze still shifting uncertainly between Pahn and the woman as his dance came to an end. She wondered what Greed had done to him to deserve this first show of sorrow she had seen from Pahn. If the name had stuck and turned into the concept she knew, she could only imagine it was something extraordinarily bad.
	When Pahn waved the newcomer off, Anora returned the action with a look that silently asked, [color=violet]“Are you crazy?”[/color]
	Her eyes narrowed at the mocking tone he used, but the words that came out of his mouth were enough for her to otherwise ignore it. She ran her tongue over her teeth, her lips closed.
	[color=violet]“You [i]made[/i] them,”[/color] she echoed, returning his stare incredulously, the woman temporary placed on the back burner. She could forget her friend’s Greek mythology book; it probably knew even fewer truths than she did, by the sounds of it. She took a deep breath.
	[color=violet]“Okay,”[/color] she drew out the word as she exhaled, Pahn’s posture shifting from casual to one that felt far more fitting for him. Though the woman in red held a regal air about her, it paled in comparison to the aura surrounding Pahn. The woman was only posing as a cold, callous queen, while Pahn possessed the true kingship with a wisdom both Anora and the woman could scarcely begin to fathom.
	She cast the woman a sideways glance as a comforting presence encompassed her, the woman’s seat blocking an easy escape from the corner booth. A bold action, Anora thought, where Pahn was concerned. Either she was extremely confident, or blindly foolish.
	[color=6ecff6]“... you'll know if this is real if you wake up tomorrow and I'm still here.”[/color]
	Anora sighed, and made an exasperated gesture with a hand. [color=violet]“Well, [i]that’s[/i] reassuring.”[/color] After a short moment, she followed Pahn’s gaze toward the woman.
	[i][color=goldenrod]Gorgon? We’re surrounded by [u]gorgons?[/u][/color][/i] She looked uneasily to the four people still remaining in the restaurant, only their eyes setting them apart from most of humanity.
	She listened as the woman and Pahn exchanged words, their meaning beyond her, and arousing yet more questions. She inhaled and looked toward the restroom at the mention of a “destructive incantation.” She placed both palms flat on the table as if to stand. If [i]he[/i] considered it destructive, she feared the worst.
	Anora’s attention snapped toward the nearest window, droplets of rain sliding down it with increasing rapidity. She startled at the clatter of the woman’s chair falling backward onto the floor. As the woman venomously reprimanded the others, in a swift motion, Anora pulled her legs onto the cushioned seat to kneel on it, angled her body to hold both fists in front of her, and her eyes began to glow as electrified energy burst to life around her knuckles and licked at her wrists.
	Before she could do much else, the woman ran toward the door. Whether to flee or attack first, Anora could not say. Either way, once the massive, boulder-like figure of a blue-skinned man with rather impressive burnsides and an alarming amount of muscles miraculously managed to squeeze through the doorway, she only hoped that what bode ill for the gorgons brought nothing but good will for her and Pahn. The room felt a bit warmer with his presence, the air growing thick and mist rising from his bare skin where droplets sizzled away.
	As he confirmed the woman's bumbling address of Odin, Anora could only gawk at the newest arrival. She cast an anxious glance to Pahn, hoping for some sort of confirmation that this guy was on their side—or, at least, wouldn't try to flatten them—the violet mist surging uncertainty over her skin.
 	In the instant it took for the four gorgons and their apparent leader to go on the offensive, one man even bursting into his reptilian form, and Odin to ready to strike, Anora looked to Pahn again and gestured toward the impending fight with her panicked eyes, wondering if he planned on doing anything about this. After all, between the two of them, there was no doubt [i]he[/i] was the one with the strong powers.
	But all it took to stop the massive man were five simple words. She watched in a mix of confusion and surprise when Odin’s fierce stance grew sheepish. 
	[color=violet]“Uh…”[/color] she glanced between Odin and Pahn as the latter motioned Odin over. [color=violet]“What about…?”[/color] She pointed toward the gorgons with an open hand, the mist receding from her fingers. Before her brain could fully communicate the question to her mouth, the woman-in-red’s eyes, once more close to their table, settled on Anora for a moment longer than the others.
	She inhaled through her nose, and her hand reformed into a fist, sparks of golden electricity dancing threateningly about the mist as her own gaze darkened, almost daring the woman to try anything. But the woman turned and sprinted for the door, her companions quick to retreat behind her. All, that is, save for the one who had gone into the bathroom.
	Once they were gone, and Odin made his way to the table, Anora’s mist fizzled out and she sat back, hard, her back leaning against the wall and feet up on the faux leather booth. She watched Odin approach, and ran a hand through her hair. They had gone from Greek to Norse gods in the matter of minutes.
	[color=violet]“Odin’s a giant blue guy,”[/color] she muttered to herself, her voice on the verge of hysteria as Pahn offered him a slice of pizza, her hand snagging in her hair. [color=violet]“Of [i]course[/i] he’s a giant blue guy. I’m sitting across from the maker of Greek gods, and am connected to a titan. Why [i]wouldn’t[/i],”[/color] she thrust a hand toward Odin in emphasis, her elbow bent, [color=violet]“he be a giant blue guy?”[/color] She ran a hand down her face, watching Odin take the pizza, his hands comically too large for the slice.
	Anora’s head cocked toward Pahn when he spoke to her through a mouthful of food. Her eyes widened when Oden stood so fast it sent a brush of warm air her way, and she braced one hand on the table and the other on the top of the seat’s backing when he sat back down, half expecting the building to shake.
	[color=violet]“Uh… hey,”[/color] she responded dumbly, then cleared her throat. She watched him reach for another slice of quickly dwindling pizza, her lasagna and now soggy bread stick sitting sadly neglected.
	A destroyed then rebuilt city. A man powerful enough to create the beings Greeks declared their gods and titans, but none of them, she assumed, quite what she had thought. Mr. Gray and gorgons out to get Pahn and, thinking back to the reptilian woman in the alleyway, her. And now the Norse god of war was flirting—albeit horribly—with her over pizza in an Italian eatery. It was all a little too much for little more than half an hour.
	She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it, before trying again.
	[color=violet]“I—I think I need some air.”[/color] She pushed herself to a half standing, half crouched position on the booth, then carefully moved around Odin, his head rising well above the table even without a chair to sit on.
	She hopped to the tiled floor, the chains on her shirt jingling gently, then walked toward the door, her gaze lingering on Odin. She paused for a moment with the overwhelming desire to poke him to make sure he was real, but thought better of it; if rain boiled into mist on his skin, she would rather not find out what it might do to her finger.
	[color=violet]“I’ll… be back.”[/color] With that, she hurried toward the exit. Pulling the door open, she paused and looked back once more, then ducked outside, hoping the temporary rain would have brought at least a bit of a cooler temperature with it.
	Outside, she moved to the side of the door and leaned against the rough wall. She took a slow, deep breath, relishing the petrichor lingering in the air. Though it was still warm out, the fresh, earthy aroma of rain made up for it. Dark splotches on the concrete showed where some of the rain had landed, the moisture quickly sucked up by the greedy summer air and sunshine slicing through the dwindling clouds.
	For a couple minutes, she watched and listened to the drone of cars rushing by on the main road. A few people walked the sidewalk. A woman in a business suit and high heels exited a coffee shop a couple storefronts down from Anora, then started pacing, engaged in a heated argument over a cell phone about statistics and sales.
	[color=salmon]“Fine!”[/color] the woman exclaimed in an enraged defeat. [color=salmon]“But if the numbers aren’t fixed by the time I get back to the office, someone’s getting fired!”[/color] She shoved her phone in her pocket with a huff, and Anora quickly averted her gaze, pretending to not have heard any of the conversation. A completely normal conversation. A mundane, boring conversation not deserving of a lingering though.
	As the woman walked away, her heels snapping moodily against the concrete, Anora took another deep breath and put her hands in the pockets of her black jeans, one sharing space with her cell phone.
	She glanced toward it, the woman’s chat making something nag at the back of her mind.
	[color=goldenrod][i]Crap! Work![/i][/color] She pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time, the thought of having to go in and pretend to be a normal waitress making her shoulders sag. The display informed her it was 1:32 p.m. Even if she wanted to go in now, after everything, and had thought to bring her uniform, she would be cutting it close. 
	[color=goldenrod][i]Yeah, not gonna happen.[/i][/color] She unlocked her phone, and went through her contacts until she got to Mrs. Wheaton’s work number, one of the owners the small diner she worked at.
	Clearing her throat in preparation to put on her best “I’m sick, and feel like I’m dying” voice, she hit the call button.
	The phone rang a few times before the familiar voice of her best friend, Anna, who always seemed to get in no less than half an hour early, answered it with the customary, [color=FF8C00]“The Golden Spoon. How might I serve you this glittering afternoon?”[/color]
	After a minute of explaining to Anna she wouldn’t be making it in, and a few well-placed coughs she was sure did not have her friend convinced, Mrs. Wheaton took over the phone. With a couple apologies, the arrangement to make up for the missed day over the weekend on one of her usual days off, and the order from Mrs. Wheaton to get well soon and drink lots of orange juice, she ended the call and pocketed the phone.
	She took one last breath, then turned back toward the door. Inside, the impossible awaited her. Everything she had ever searched for and more sat at a table, eating pizza, while her spinning head tried to settle down. Without a second thought, she reached for the door handle to peek inside, part of her expecting to find Odin and Pahn gone, and replaced with ordinary customers.