“Didn’t do anything?” She took a step toward him, her expression incredulous. It was so typical of Ares to act like he had nothing to do with the violence around him, like he didn’t enjoy it. After all this time—centuries, maybe—he hadn’t changed one bit. Perhaps, under different circumstances, it might have been comforting to know that one of her fellow deities had managed to stay the same after so long a time, but she was currently too frustrated to even care.
“Then what do you call that?” she asked. At that moment a man stumbled out the door, cursing and bleeding profusely. She watched him stagger off for a moment before pointing at him and continuing. “He was a well-meaning, already paying customer.”
She took another step toward Ares, narrowing her eyes in a steely glare. God of War or not, this was her place of occupation, and he was going to respect that. It didn’t matter that she didn’t really need the job, or that she could always find another one, or that she had even considered moving on to something else earlier that week; those things weren’t the point. The point was... something else.
“And I can kick you out,” she said, pointing a finger at his chest. “Because I know you, and I know what happens when you’re around. And don’t even try to argue, because those rioting idiots in there were nothing but docile before you showed up."