Eris leaned in a little and when she spoke it was in a conspiratorial whisper. "I'd have to get cranky if I weren't your favourite anymore," was what she told him. If she was making a joke, her blank expression certainly didn't reveal that.
"Maybe Eros deserves a second look then," Eris admitted, slipping herself down off the counter-top. Now standing in front of him, Eris only came up to Ares' shoulders, but she'd always been deceptively slight like that. (Even back when the poets had spoken of her as a hideous specter she'd still been a little hideous specter.)
She walked past him to look in the fridge, scorched tulle dragging behind her. Leaning on the open fridge door she said, "I could test out how much of his daddy has crawled up inside, and how much he gets from the nasty piece of work with the great rack. Aphrodite," Eris clarified with a backwards glance to Ares, "not me."