"They have promise," Apollo smiled as he ran his hand over his hair, the gesture pulling (as it was designed to) his shirt above the Italian leather of his belt. "You'll have to come and see for yourself. You know I throw the greatest parties. You remember." He reached for her hand, her fingers delicate in his, her skin pale against his gold, and raised it to his lips. "You could sing for them, every single one of them would fall head over heels in love with you."