"You violent types." Blue eyes rolled skyward as Pan groaned his pain at the comment. Then, as if a light bulb turned on, those blue eyes lit and sharpened. "It was you, wasn't it!" He accused loudly, pointing with one finger while the rest of his hand closed around his tequila shot. Given how enthusiastic his gesture was, it almost had to be an act of some god that he liquid did not spill. "you were the one to push the damn hunters off on me, weren't you?" It was a hollow accusation, but the idea still amused Pan to no end. "Bullshit, man, what'd I ever do to you?" He demanded with a laugh, tossing back the tequila as his face twisted into a grimace. "Strong shit," he announced, reaching for the other glass to chase it down, not caring what it was so long as it was not tequila.
"I have been doing as very little as possible," he announced in a high, clipped tone, as if very proud of this fact. "Toured the country a bit, but this place kept calling to me. It's the water and the girls. Girls not made out of water are easier to bed, by the way." Clearly, Ares could use that bit of sage wisdom. "Something keeps calling me back here. It's annoying. A little scratching in the back of your brain. Like the scratching of little paws in your ass. Not that I've ever put a gerbil up there or anything, but you know what I mean. It's annoying as hell." He said it all so casually, as if it were a perfectly normal topic of conversation.
"You know, I still think the skinny one's going to win. Not that he's skinny like me, but skinner than that guy. He looks slow. Are there fights here a lot? I should come and wager some." Just as he said that, a girl walked by, and Pan's eyes left the cage, completely focused on her exposed rack. His mouth was clearly watering, watching the way her ample breasts bounced ever so slightly with each step. "Wager. Yeaaaah," he whispered in a heated, hushed tone. He was not only shameless, but lost in his own world and no one really wanted to know what he was imagining.