Morpheus shook his head. "Has it really not occured to you that I'm standing here for you, Nanshe?"
His eyes slid to the flower-shaped shaker in her hands, and Dream's eyebrow raised. "I've never minded work. More work, either." Especially not since he hadn't seen Makaria in what felt like forever. Things were strange, there. Very.
He could use the distraction.
This was half-maddening, though. There were, he supposed, fundamental differences between himself and Nanshe, no matter how similar they actually were and no matter how similar their dominions. Dream oozed empathy for anyone who needed it--especially a god or goddess he cared about. He always had. It was part of what made his family detest him, he figured; it was human.