The world falls away, here, in this moment.

Touch. Just touch. No expectations, no duty. Just care and affection, from one friend to another, because he wants to. Tenderness, gentleness, all wrapped in cleaning grit out of grooves

The world could end, and she could no more pull away from the small, dainty fingers than she could interrupt the not-quite-hopeful voice.

And she daren't look inside the hoodie, because she knows what she'll find.

She stares up at the larger hoodie behind him. Hestia. Hestia, please. Please tell her she can speak here, in this island you've created, this bubble of peace in a sea of roiling turmoil. What one god has done, no other god can undo. Here, in this kitchen, they are safe.

A small nod.

Okay.

"You don't believe he will."

Not a question. Not an accusation, either, a dart meant to sting. A simple statement of fact. You're hoping, yes. Hoping that there is some promise, some sacrifice you can make so that you will be spared this if you cross. You can bargain for your love. Somehow, you will be the ones.

"Aphrodite created this situation, Dolce."

He's stopped his gentle ministrations. Please, keep going. Please, forgive her.

"He burned the galaxy, slaughtered billions upon billions, sank half of Poseidon's seas and everyone in it into the underworld. He wanted [i]all of us.[/i] Everyone, here in the underworld. All, just to hurt Zeus.

"[i]He[/i] manipulated Molech. All of that, for the love of someone who never existed.

"He manipulated Zeus, to give humanity the tools to create the [i]Spear.[/i]

"He manipulated Hermes and Hades--for the love of humanity, for the love of Persephone."

When next she speaks--when eons have passed, and somehow the world is still too terrible not to say it for her, spare her the grief--she's almost inaudible.

"He manipulated [i]me,[/i] Dolce.

"All this time, I thought he was helping me. I thought he cared, maybe. Not a friend, no, but… He kept bringing me out of my shell. Showing me that I [i]could[/i] make choices. That I could leave, and so could choose to stay. That I had people who loved me. That I could love [i]myself.[/i]

"And all this time. All this time, he was the one to make sure that Minerva--"

She can't bring herself to say the words. The thought is too large, that she's gone. Well and truly. Not kidnapped, not vanished. He hadn't said those words.

"… All this time," she murmurs. "All this time, he just wanted a spear."