Vasilia treated Zeus to a witheringly polite smile. “Ah, good, you heard. That saves me the trouble of repeating myself more bluntly.” An ocean could dry up at her tone. In spite of the shameless cheek-pinching. “Will you graciously grant me another portion of your all-seeing insight? I’m afraid I’ve over-indulged on sandwiches, which you must know, affects the senses so dreadfully.” Zeus ought to know, given how she doubled the intake of even the starving Liu Ban. “Could you remind me; what, exactly, is my curse?”

******************************************************************

So he wasn’t the first! Didn’t that bring a little smile to his face, to know that it wasn’t so outlandish a thing for one of his station to catch the eye of Lord Hades. Except, when one considered the rate of successes of those chef(s?) and the implications for his own chances…

Dolce did not win that hand. Or the one after that. His heart was too busy curling into a tiny ball and hiding away where it was quiet and safe.

“...so, who do you put in your bets with? And what do you wager?” His curiosity found an opening in the space between hands, and nosed its way back into the light of day. “Surely by now, you would have cleaned out anyone’s coffers with your winnings.”