Persephone merely quirked a brow at the frigidness she instantly heard in her mother's voice, but answered the question, unfazed. "Why wouldn't he be here?" she inquired, her tone noncommittal, like if they were talking about the weather, almost. She took another sip of the wine, thankful for that, keeping her façade of perfect composure in place, that casual, ambiguously stoic manner she had always had when speaking of him -- particularly around Demeter, if the subject should happen to come up. It was better that way, best not to wear her hea-- emotions on her sleeves, and certainly best not to let others know all that lay beneath the surface of things. Yes, it was just better that way.
"We sort of... ran into each other," she recounted. "Yes, see, I have a dog, a bull terrier, and so does he, a smaller rat terrier and something else mix," she said. "Their leashes sort of got... tangled," the last word was said with a half-upward inflection, an almost-question, a perfect projection of that aura of innocence much attributed to her.