His laugh is slow. A throaty sort of thing that sees his stare sliding over to meet Hades' own— those pale eyes glinting in low light. Pretty as ever.

And then it ebbs, his expression. Just a little. Like the subtle differences before tide pulls away from the shore.

"What that spirit said. The one that pretended to be your..."

His what, friend? Beloved? Associate? Something more than that, even?

"It's not a bad thing you know, consorting with people like us."