Henry leaned against the counter, looking thoughtful as she explained the way she saw Hermes. It made sense to him. He knew Hermes had likely done terrible things, but in that basement he had huddled up beside Henry to keep him warm. He had protected Henry's unconscious form despite his body being wasted.
"That makes so much sense," Henry nodded, getting into the conversation. "I can see that. Polytropic. I like it. Probably explains a lot of the older gods, actually. And then there's my fiance's dad who is an actual saint. He makes bread with herbs and grows daffodils."