Phobos blinked a little, wondering what a weird phone would be like, but shrugged it off quickly. If Ares said it was weird then it was weird. Standing there with nothing to say, he felt the old familiar awkwardness settle in.
"We're not," he began, shifting his stance, "I mean I don't know how long we'll be... but we'll not get in your way, erm... and we're not in trouble or anything." Not this time at least. "So nobody will be knocking the door down..." The boy fell silent again and averted his gaze. Somewhere in the distance he could hear his twin talk to himself.
"I'm glad you're back, dad." His father had returned - he hadn't been sure if he'd ever see Ares again - his brother had, too, and both seemed fine. So did his uncle. The loss of a couple of fingers wasn't so bad actually, and what if they grew back wrong? He could try to get used to them or maybe this time they'd grow back right.
Everything could and should be right again - as right as things could be in this family - so why wouldn't the numbness go away?
'Beautiful boy.'
"I'm really, really glad you're back," Phobos repeated softly, trying to swallow the lump that formed in his throat.