Hades rolled his eyes. Zeus was a child. Hades was asking a child. His pesky little brother who pretended to be older, and who played tossing games in the middle of their meeting with a statue that was meant to show respect. Granted Hades representations in mortal art were completely ridiculous. They always were. And he had wondered if it could actually function as a bowl. But this was not the time. Not during the most difficult conversation Hades had ever had.
Did Zeus realize how hard it had been for Hades to come to him about this? Admit a terrible weakness of character to exactly the sort who might exploit it later? No, Zeus didn't. Zeus had grown up separate from the rest of them. He did not have any respect for Hades as his elder brother, and judging from this display he did not have any respect for Hades as a king either. To be fair, Zeus was doing a good job of losing Hades' respect for him too.
He pressed his lips together and clenched his teeth. At his side, each knuckle curled and uncurled one by one. Hades exhaled slowly and counted to three in his head. “Are you quite finished?” Hades asked. The words came out slower and slightly clipped. He was very tempted to take the actual helmet, the one that did not look a thing like a bowl, and to use it to leave. This had been a bad idea.
But then Zeus got back on task, and he cringed at the words being thrown back at him, but the question at the end made Hades blink. One eye widened more than the other. “What?” he asked, while he tried to piece it together. “Why would I want to have her and not...” He trailed off as it dawned on him. Zeus. Oh. “...No” Hades said, “I don't have an interest in that.” He paused, and swallowed. After a few long seconds, he said quietly. “I'd make her queen. Fifty fifty power split. But Demeter would never let me get close enough to even try.” He bit his lip. “We don't exactly see eye to eye.” They'd never exactly gotten along well either.