And then everything went silent again. Calls from mortals. No Greek. No family. Just people he used to surround himself with, people who didn't matter now and wouldn't exist in a hundred years' time.
He didn't want to deal with them, and certainly he was in no mood to deal with the stranger in his chair.
His head turned by a fraction, and dull eyes shifted, glaring at the boy in his house.
Leave.
Leave.
Hand, tight fist. Knife, still on the floor. Game of nerves? Game over.