It wasn't that Thanatos was opposed to smiling. If he knew Makaria looked forward to the occasional ghost of a smile, he might've made more of an effort to show them. But that was because Than tried to be as considerate as possible when it came to those he held dear, not because he was secretly on some desperate quest to find more reasons to smile. He did it with the most frequency when he was most certainly drunk, but grinning while inebriated simply was not the same.
"We often buy wine," he said lightly, letting Makaria believe that he had simply lost the moment in a sea of other memories. He set the bottle down when he finished pouring, and picked up one of the glasses to hand it to his companion. "Of course I remember. Though I have casks of wine from before your birth, if you wish to discuss vintage. Just saving it for a rainy day." Wasn't that how the phrase went? Thanatos really didn't understand mortals sometimes, but that didn't stop him from picking up their sayings now and again. Accidentally, of course.
A hum of disapproval escaped as Than picked up his glass, recalling Makaria's defiant insistence on that particular evening. "You don't have wings. And your father would've had my head." Than could only imagine how that conversation would've gone. 'Sorry, Hades, I dropped your dear daughter off the Eiffel Tower. But she's good as new, I swear.'
Thanatos had no interest in seeing that Death Scepter of his.
"Now what would we do on an unmarred island? You drag me from the Underworld to see the newest way it's been marred, not to appreciate the untouched serenity of a private place." Than chuckled, though it was little more than a staccato exhale. Laughter, like smiles, never came easy for the god of death.
"To mortals ruining nature," he said, raising his glass to toast to mankind's penchant for destruction.