It took a few more breaths to get his heartbeat to slow down to a softer beat. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, finding her voice soothing even if she was being stern. It was a talent she'd always managed to posses over him.
"Not easily," he had years of repressed anger and frustration, centuries built could not be broken down in a night. It was an ongoing struggle, a rather debilitating mental state that he may never recover, but needed to learn to live with and overcome to ever have the slightest peace of mind. Achilles had been nothing but Achilles, he needed to just be the man and not the object of fascination. "He is mortal mother, and much of what he tries to understand is only scratching the surface." He didn't like to admit that he who he spoke to was a therapist.