There were a few things that did not happen following his reply to Philotes. For starters, the hall did not suddenly go silent. It certainly did not go still. Thanatos did not actually hear his brain whimper, and he was fairly certain the uncomfortable sensation of insects beneath his skin was merely in his head. None of these things happened, but they might as well have. Than spoke, and then Philotes began to ponder his words, and that was just about as alarming as her innocent question of 'why.' She was a wonderful young goddess, she really was, but Lottie could scare him well enough without much preparation. And she was preparing. He knew, even though the world was not silent and there were undoubtedly animals still frolicking merrily through the world, that the sudden stillness meant that danger was on the horizon.
But what exactly was Than going to do about it? Despite her ability to rattle his calm as easy as she might blink, Philotes was not being malicious. She wasn't even doing this intentionally. While he and Hypnos were growing up, clearly something went wrong. Than was vaguely stunted, in a very prominent, not-at-all-vague sort of way. Interactions of most varieties were terrible. But none of this was Lottie's fault, so it wasn't like he could turn tail and bolt like fleeing prey. She didn't deserve such a terrible display as that.
Than braced himself as her lips parted.
The Whys flowed freely, and he narrowly missed a collision with a pained, desperate shudder.
"Um."
There was a very clear place to begin. Start with the first question, and work your way through. It was a logical course of action. But Thanatos just stared. He probably would've gone cross-eyed if not for the simple fact that he was too busy furrowing his brow to multitask like that. A breath was drawn in. He exhaled before he managed to start talking, and had to breathe in again.
Which was good, considering what followed would qualify as a long-winded speech the likes of which typically only existed inside of one-man plays.
"The thing...about people, Lottie, is that, well, they don't seem to fully grasp their, uh, mortality. They live frivolously and then suddenly they're terribly in their cups and they start going on about the bosom of some other man's wife, and that other man pulls a weapon of some variety, and then that first man is floating face-down in a little creek somewhere, and it's all very shocking. There isn't a firm grasp on cause and effect in a lot of these cases. So they start complaining about how it wasn't fair for them to die, they deserve another chance even though I'm not some magical fellow who can reverse the damage of a mortal knife wound or something. Even the ones who lost their heads in life think I can slap a new one on their neck and all will be well. But that isn't how it works. Death is final. I don't kill people. They die, or get themselves killed, and then I just scoop up the whining remains. And even the old ones just forget that they had plenty of time to do what they wanted to, and it isn't my fault that they fiddled about rather than telling the old milkmaid how he's felt all these years. I can't pity fools, Lottie. I couldn't do my job if I really pitied any of them anyway. It isn't bad down here. It isn't like they just stop. They just don't get a shell anymore. If they were good people, it all works out...mostly."
Thanatos felt his eyes widen as the long tirade washed back over him. He looked helplessly at Philotes. If she could ask fourteen questions after he had spoken all of five sentences...what could she do with all that?