"Certainly not towards Ares," Luna said with a sharp edge to her voice, before cutting it with a more pleasant smile. (With the view of her open bedroom door behind the gods, Luna couldn't help but remember when he'd first cornered her in there and threatened to destroy her- a threat he almost got to carry out at that club. She'd been an idiot not to trust in Hermes from the start.)
"But for drinks," Luna told him, lifting a wine bottle from the ice, "maybe this very nice Nero D'Avola from Sicily. Though if left to my own devices," she added, because honesty (to a point) was appreciated by the gods, "I'd drink martinis all night."