Hephaestus did something which he rarely let other people experience. He laughed. Not loud or long, but a smile still split his face, his eyes lit up, and the sound of rough and raspy laughter soaked into the warmth of the forge. What a bold thing she was. It wasn't exceedingly hard to see why -- defensive as Jo was, the smith had spent millennia observing other people. The pieces which came together to create Jofranka Westwick were already aligning in his mind's eye despite the fact that her canvas was still more blank than not.
"You're assuming I meant something other than water." Laughter faded into a crooked grin while he shook his head. "Should I take the invite back? You sound like trouble."
Ignoring his own bad leg -- live long enough and disregarding one's infirmities wasn't too hard -- Hephaestus canted his head and squinted, peering at Jo in a show of suspicion. "Didn't think dancing was unusual. Rom dancing?"