Phobos had never learnt to appreciate the way of words writers and poets had and if anyone had dared say that to his face, he'd have yanked their brains out through their noses, but it was an apt description of the boy's state. Zeus had persuaded the boy to take him to Medusa because the Olympian wanted to talk to her about something.
What that something was, the light twin didn't know, and asking had only earned him a curious smile. He didn't want to because he knew how much she despised his family but it wasn't easy to refuse the king of gods anything. Grandpa was a scary SOB.
As always, the God of Fear found his way to Medusa, unerringly, without fail. Zeus was somewhere close by but the boy didn't know where. The thunder-god had masked his presence. How? Phobos had no idea.
Coming to a halt when he spotted his friend, he took a few moments to compose himself - and to look at her. The line of her slender neck, the curve of her spine, the strand of hair brushing against her cheek which made him want to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.
He just wants to talk. He said he needed to discuss something with her. Something important but nothing bad...
The boy inhaled deeply and stepped towards Medusa. A shadow moved behind her. "MEDDY!" he shouted and was about to start running but suddenly found himself surrounded by a cage of lightning, crackling and hissing.