If it was a scheme to throw him off-balance, it was working. Fortunately Prometheus considered himself an adaptable creature. Hard words would not shake her loose of her apathy, would they? If anything, they would only drive her further into it. That made him wonder if he could accomplish his goal at all, while she was this way. Erebos must have tried hard as a parent, done all that he could, but what Erebos could do was not the same as what any other parent could do? Was he thinking of Apate now the same way he thought of Dolos? That was an uncomfortable thought. He wished he knew if this mood was a trick or not. Not having all of the information made navigating this situation dangerous for both of them. What was she playing at? He couldn't get over that thought. What was she playing at? Eos had asked him not to do anything to Apate. That was what kept him focused. He was here to try and bury the hatchet, so to speak. Plans had not come to fruition, for Apate or for Aphrodite. Eos knew the truth. It would have to be enough for a start, wouldn't it?
He'd told himself that cycles could be broken.
This was yet another cycle to break.
As he closed the door behind him, Prometheus tried to think of how to approach the situation. The answer was not forthcoming. Assume it was not a trick. Would he be able to break through to her when she had this attitude toward it? Had someone found her, become angry with her for what she'd done? No. He had few defenders, and Eos just as few. The explanation was hovering just out of his grasp, but it was the key to the entire thing, wasn't it? Or at least to his understanding of it. Slow and measured steps brought him into the living room, and he stood in the doorway. Despite her offer of a beverage, she didn't seem that inclined to play hostess. Would he have been inclined? At the very least he'd poured her a glass of wine. Only ruthless self-control kept him from smiling at that. She was going to be a problem, one way or another. He just hoped it was the sort of problem that he could have sympathy for, instead of the one that he couldn't. Time would tell. Rather than sitting down, or relieving himself of his bag, Prometheus pretended hesitation.
It wasn't a stretch.
"I..." and he trailed off, counting the seconds off in his head. "Why did you do it? Because of what I said?"
Get her talking about it, first. Get her involved. Just hopefully not involved enough that reason sounded like an attack and truth sounded like a an attempt at manipulation.
It was truly opposite world in Apate's head, and Prometheus was not enjoying his time there thus far.