It might have been tempting to take a guess at what Zeus was thinking about, but Kratos had given up on that ages ago. There was no telling what went on in that kingly mind, and any attempts to figure it out would only result in confusion and headaches.
There were certain things that Kratos had grown accustomed to over the years, and Zeus’ prolonged silences were at the top of that list. He had learned that the king would speak when he was ready, and that forcing him to do so earlier would lead to something unpleasant.
Besides... he didn’t really mind these periods of stillness. He was a soldier, not a conversationalist, and he certainly wasn’t expecting Zeus to speak to him as if he were a friend. Certain formalities might have been lost throughout the years, but Kratos made it a point to never forget his place.
When at last Zeus did speak, Kratos obeyed. He was at the king’s side almost instantly, remaining silent as he awaited further instruction. He looked every bit the loyal bodyguard: shoulders squared, face expressionless, hands clasped behind a straight back. Had it not been for the expectant gleam in his eyes, there would have been no trace of the fighter within.