He tried his best to stop looking at the man in his house. He was just as boring as the sky anyway, but he was here and Ares didn't know what he wanted or why he was here or when he'd get the hint, get his shit together and leave.
Ares had a vague picture of the people who were leaving messages on his answering machine. People he made laugh all the time, people he had put up with - he didn't think this guy left anything for him.
Whether that made him irrelevant or the most important person right now, Ares didn't seem to care.
"Leave," he finally said, in a language that hadn't been used for over a thousand years, sparing the man a glare before looking back to the ceiling. It was strange, having to get used to his own voice again. He hadn't lost it for all that long, or so he thought.