Others would have quaked, withered and wilted under Cronus' cold, calculating gaze but not Rhea. She had loved him when he made her laugh, resented him when he made her cry, fought by his side and against him. Not once, however, not even when he'd been at his worst, had she feared him and she wouldn't start now.
Withstanding the scrutiny calmly, patiently, she lifted her chin in an almost challenging manner. 'Yes, look,' her eyes seemed to say. 'Look closely. This is me. Always has been, always will be. Look.'
When Cronus glanced away, she kept her eyes on him, waiting, bracing herself for whatever he would do next.
"Mm?" The magazine in her hand quivered. "I'm sorry," Rhea said, as she closed the distance between them and reached up to touch her fingers against the side of his face, "but I don't speak 'grunt', Cronus. You'll have to use actual words with me."