She stood as suddenly, mirroring his movements immediately to combat the confusion he set within her. Why so suddenly the need to leave? She didn't let it come to the surface, but instead stretched and nudged her mostly-empty glass into the center of the low-slung ebonywood table in front of them. A step backward, and she was clear of the furniture. "You should come back," she said, padding toward the door and tossing it open for him. She dropped her shoulder against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest. Her long perusal of him told her nothing.
The house of Erebos and Nyx was typically never easy to read.
"You should come back," she repeated. "And tell me more about... her." How could Styx not have had her children? Then, if she never married Pallas, perhaps there was the explanation -- but no, no, he'd known when she was shrieking for her children. He'd known them, known her enough to know who she was calling for. The goddess ran a thumb across her bottom lip and again eyed Akheron.
"Come back," she said again. It wasn't an invitation, but a command. For all of that, it carried the barest hint of... a plea.