If Hephaestus heard her comment on the contrast in temperatures, he didn't deign to acknowledge it. Nor did he bother trying to coax the mortal further inside the forge. He wasn't about to blame her for reticence -- lame or not, he was much bigger than she was.
Besides, a healthy dose of trepidation was good for a man's ego. The forge was a sacred place. Hephaestus did not care for people who felt they had the right to step right in without a word.
"You're sure?" The question was casual, borderline rhetorical. Hephaestus moved through the forge with an efficiency of movement, pausing only to consider if he should cover up his latest project. This woman did not need to see the beginnings of his grandfather's coffin. On the other hand, it was nowhere near completed and the smith didn't much think Jo was the type to call on the police, anyway.
He left the pieces where they were, shuffling off to tend the fire instead. "You like it here, or is it too normal for you? Too nice?"