“I will have a cup sent for you,” he told her softly, his voice taking on a soothing, hypnotic cadence that he often used with his more unruly children. He'd found it also worked exceptionally well with mortals and gods. He could soothe and ease people into sleep so that it almost felt natural. He could force sleep, but he preferred to do things this way.
And he was not doing it to be unkind, or even to thwart Hera, tempting as that might be. No, Hypnos was intending to grant the messenger the gift of rest. It was obvious to him that the poor girl was tired. How could she not be, given how much she had to do, how hard she worked? The queen was a busy goddess, she probably required a cadre of messenger, and yet, she had only the one. That suggested either that Hera was cruel and worked Iris unrelentingly for fun, that Hera trusted few and Iris was one of the exceptions, or that Iris herself worked so hard Hera didn't realize how she overburdened her messenger. Hypnos thought perhaps it was a combination of the latter two.
So a short rest would be beneficial, and not just for Iris. Surely her productivity would be far better if she were refreshed, and so he would be doing Hera a small favor as well. Because he was not sending his sons on this mission for the queen's sake, but to save the soon-to-be-grieving wife the further distress and pain of wondering where her husband might be. At least that was what he told himself, and he was rather convincing at that.
A soft blanket, light and comfortable, materialized in his hands. Hypnos gently drew it over Iris, lest the chill of the Underworld somehow defy his will and creep into his home. “It will be here shortly,” he informed her, regarding the wine. “Why don't you rest your eyes while you wait. They must be weary from adjusting to the dimness in my home.”