"Yeah," he said, when she looked up at him. Her hand was still soft, so soft.
What she said made sense to him, because he'd also had the same experience in 'his' temple. Whatever it was that had happened, it'd affected him and apparently her as well. In that frame, it wasn't difficult to see that perhaps she wasn't an imposter. And she certainly seemed to fit in the temple, even if it wasn't quite the temple he recalled. Even if she wasn't quite the Aphrodite he recalled.
What happened to his temple, to hers, to her? He scowled and pushed her hand away. This wasn't his goddess. He didn't know her. Not really. He wanted his lover. He wanted his temple.
"I'm going to find some answers," he growled, then turned and stalked to the door of her temple. He left his suit jacket where it'd fallen.