Even as he made certain the Sumerian had a glass full of something that had enough kick to knock Thor on his ass (not a boast, something that had actually been successfully tested a few centuries prior), Dionysus gave Bast a sweet smile.
“Darling,” he all but purred in a moment of utter lucidity, his tone suave and beguiling, “even if they had two left feet and the musicality of a brain damaged badger, I have no doubt you could manage to inspire them to feats that would put the Bolshoi to shame. I’d suggest you show them how it’s done, but I’m not sure my heart could take such beauty in motion knowing it could never be replicated. In lieu of such a wonder, we will simply have to settle for the entertainment value provided by rippling muscles and a well-developed Adonis belt. Do get them started, my love.”
A blink later, he looked blankly at Nina and said, “We’re going to need trashier music if we’re going to Magic Mike this place.”
There was a tingle from his other side, which let him know Bast was definitely up to something. Which was just lovely. She was always such a fun little troublemaker, Dio quite adored her.