"Hey, I'm a grower," he shot right back, getting half an inhale before adding, "and it's cold in here. And who are you to judge me, anyway? The statues of your likeness don't leave me overwhelmed!" He spat it quickly and with venom, but the light still danced in his eyes. It was very difficult to get Pan seriously upset, outside of the talk of Plutarch. That got him riled up pretty quickly. It was obvious that he was not really that offended because he was not calling the other god "Cupid" or making jokes about his diaper. See, he was playing nice.
"I never exaggerate," Pan announced with a stiff upper lip. It was seriously hard to keep from grinning, and the facade broke halfway through his next statement. "I am always an upright and moral being and I never lie, nor exaggerate nor--Haha ok no, I can't keep that up." Slim shoulders bouncing with laughter, Pan took a long draw off his joint and tangled long fingers into his curly hair. "But, you know, I'll defend my honor to the death."
"Hmm? Oh, him," he shrugged, looking down at his very exposed self. He did bristle with a bit if pride when Eros called it little big Pan. What? He had frightfully little from his godhood to hang onto or brag about, and he was a man and, well, you know, fuck off. "But he likes the air! He likes to run wild and free and--eh, may as well button up." Catching the joint between his lips, he arched his body up again sending ash tumbling casually off his shirt and did up his pants again. He breathed out a long, pleased sigh as the joint mellowed him further. "Got any movies?"