Hera had millennia of dirty looks thrown her way. The one Harmonia was giving her now didn't even crack the top one hundred. She should give her tips so she could go home and practice in the mirror. But she held her tongue on that suggestion as well. One thing at a time.
“Again with the insolence,” Hera sighed, growing very weary of her grandchild's persecution complex. What had Hades been letting the girl learn down there?
“Truthfully, I have no idea what help you desire,” she informed Harmonia, “because you never quite got past the finger pointing and blame game to tell me. However, as I said, because I love you in spite of the hurtful way you have approached me, I am willing to help you. All you need do is actually ask.”
The teacup she was holding was set delicately in it's place on her saucer, and that in turn placed on the table before she continued, “And while you are at it, you may explain what you mean about Hephaestus' hand in your nightmare, as you put it, and what that has to do with a necklace.”
That was honestly what she wished to know, and the only reason she was continuing to entertain someone acting like such a spoiled and petulant brat. Her only hope was that once her granddaughter vented her spleen, she would manage to get over herself.