Marcie shrugged a nonchalant shoulder and leaned against the car next to Tragos, taking a profiterole from the plate. "I didn't ask permission, if that's what you mean. He'll know soon enough, but he won't care. He's got other shit to worry about." Like Hecate and Melpomene and Apollo and Aphrodite. God, those gods were all so messed up.
But was she any better, really? A rush of feeling filled her again, and she sighed heavily. "I'm just tired. I didn't want to bother them." Her mask dangled from her wrist, and she realised she'd left her gloves inside on the couch. Oh well. They weren't really hers anyway.