Why was it always so difficult to read him? What did it mean, exactly, when he shrugged? The way he said, did it speak more than his words? Nephthys felt frustrated and guilty.
"That I wouldn't object to," Nephthys admitted. She sat herself, slowly, on the coffee table in front of him. Let him take any distance he wanted from her. She realised, now, that she probably smelled of that other goddess, her own scent lost beneath a stranger's. Silently she cursed herself for not showering before coming here. "However," she added, "it is likely the Greek holds more strength than us."