"Midas?" Apollo asked cocking his head thoughtfully as if he didn't know who or what Pan was referring to. He knew. A god's memory was acute to the point where he or she could remember everything. But a memory trapped in a mortal body well... there had to be some decay right? "Huh. Name isn't familiar. I've punished so many people over the centuries. It's hard to keep track of all of them. I'm sure you understand." The smile Apollo gave Pan was just as shit eating as the one Pan had just given him.
Besides, Pan deserved the dig if he kept ragging on Apollo's music. Which was meticulously and perfectly crafted. There were producers around the world beating down Sam's door to get him a contract but while the thought of international fame and glory was appealing, he had this creeping feeling that something or someone was out there watching them. The gods. Apollo's sense of prophecy was much diminished but he still had feelings of premonition and this feeling had been going off for a few years now. Best to lay low.
"I'm working. This is just a weekend gig," Apollo replied warily, not wanting to reveal where he was working in the very real chance that Pan would show up just to cause trouble. "I've been careful to keep my stuff off the charts. It ends up on the 'net sometimes and that's great but nothing beyond the CDs we make ourselves. I don't want to have a big break. That just makes disappearing in fifteen twenty years even harder." While he spoke, he rolled his eyes at Pan's antics and gave him a rough shove to get him to knock it off. A little maturity please? Lord. Besides, if Pan thinks he can just give Apollo a slap even if it was on the arm then Pan was going to need another think.