"Yeah. He's a cunt," Apollo echoed her distaste, and thought all the more highly of her because of it. He always loved an audience who was receptive to him ragging on Ares, and for a moment as he tended her throat he thought about telling her everything, the whole truth about himself and Ares and who they were, just so he could tell her about the time the Aloadae trapped Ares in a jar for more than a year.
Perhaps not. Yet. One day she would know everything, but that was not this day.
"You could stay with me at the penthouse," he suggested. "No War Mutt is going to break in there."