Zeus scratched at his chin and studied the boy, but didn't show any outward emotion or opinion on the matter at hand. At least not right away. Instead he raised his chin just a bit as if trying to look at Deimos from a different angle in the hopes to see something far more pleasing. He didn't. What he saw, instead, was a boy that was growing up to be very much like his sire. Talent... wasted... If only Ares understood that there was more to war than bloodshed, more to being a warrior than just ending life, then there might be more hope for him.
“Nothing you have to finish, you mean.” Zeus corrected for him. The desire to not anger Ares aside, Deimos -as far as Zeus saw it, had no vested interest in annihilating a village or settlement. It wasn't really in his purview.
Zeus had knowledge of what was in his grandson's actual purview, but, for the sake of argument was going to question the boy on it. If the whole point of this conversation was to educate him there would be a certain ease to it if the ideas came to Deimos on their own. It was easier to accept concepts, notions and epiphanies when they came from the self rather than outside it. This was especially true with difficult individuals.
“I suppose you are wondering why I summoned you now, knowing you were in the middle of something.” Obviously Zeus had known Deimos was busy. The destruction at Crete was enough proof of that. Where Ares went his sons followed. Zeus leaned forward and folded his hands together in his lap. “Deimos,” he said after a moment. “What do you consider your... aspects of divinity. Your specialties. Your... purview.”