When the scythe came out, his instinct was to throw his arms in front of Persephone. Death was a doorstep to him, and a rather annoying one, but he'd rather be harmed then Persephone. "Relax, I know it isn't winter. I'm not here to take her away. Styx woman."
With a sigh he glanced to Persephone in a definite 'see?' movement. He turned to Demeter, but kept himself in front of his wife. "Demeter, for once in your life realize that even though I've hardly earned her love, she has given it to me. Freely I might add. So put the damned weapon away."
He glanced back to Persephone to make sure she was alright before taking her hand. "Sorry. But I told you so." With another sigh he glanced to Demeter. "I'm here under invitation of my Queen." To that he smirked, "so you get to argue with your daughter about that one. Now, love," everything about him turned gentler as he looked to Persephone, "do you want to tell her? And did you eat?"