"Oooh no no no no noooo!" Pan denied quickly, holding up both hands as if to shield himself from the very idea. "I got enough of a beating from the Hunters who decided I was their fucking god, thank you very much." He snorted in contempt, his face twisting in dislike at the very memory of those times. Those assholes and their flogging ways. Bastards. No respect for him, none at all! Humpf. "I've taken a note or two from your boy," he added with a wry grin, elbowing the other in the side yet again. "I'm a lover, not a fighter! ...Then again I always was a bit of a lover. I'm told I missed a heck of a show when you got caught being a lover." He really had no idea when to shut his freaking yap.
"So when do the fights start?" He asked eagerly, stretching his long form up further so he could try and see over the heads of the others. "This your gig?" He asked again, very thick brows hopping upwards. "It's pretty sweet. I might have to drop by more often. What've you been up to? Staying out of trouble? I've been pretty good. Had that ping of someone I'm sure I've met before. I hate those. I mean, I don't hate most of those people--unless it's Plutarch. That fuckhead. If he came back I might just have to dick with him a bit. But I mean, most of these people are good enough people, but so much work, and so few of them willing to fuck you, you know?" He asked as if he were entirely sure that Ares would know.