Clearly he didn't have a clue when he'd crossed a line. The elbowing was bad enough. Bringing up the 'show' was a criminal offense. In fact, Ares had killed for less. Without changing expression, his normally sparkling blue eyes grew icy cold and his hand shot out, catching the godling by the throat and squeezing. Not enough to really choke him, but enough to show him that he could. Granted, Ares wasn't sure he could kill another god, in the sense that he wasn't sure the other god could be killed. But he could certainly make him WISH he were dead.
"Goat," he said, his voice the same one that he'd used on the battlefield to bring fear to his enemies, "if you ever mention that debacle again, I will personally see to it that Plutarch was right."
Even if he couldn't be killed, he could at least be trapped. Buried in concrete, maybe. After Ares castrated him. With a broken beer bottle.