He could feel her, through the distance and the body of the car, he could feel some part of her anima calling to his. Apollo slammed the door of his car shut, carelessly loud in the night, and his feet crunched on the gravel at the side of the road as he closed the space between the cars. He banged his hand, not hard, a couple of times on the bonnet as he passed, a kind of acknowledgement that the minotaur had done what he'd said he was going to do and Apollo appreciated those who followed his instructions like that.
And then he was pulling open the back door, revealing the horror of all that had happened to Erato, and the scope of all that was up to him to put right. "Erato," he said, soft as the morning sun. "Here I am."