"Yes, go on." he'd nodded in genuine understanding as to why it was that she was laughing -- he'd laughed at just as inopportune times before -- yes, indeed. Even funerals. "Proceed. Mhm." nod, nod, okay, maybe he laughed too. Because it was kinda funny, and because the sound of her laugh was a little unfortunately contagious. So fucking sue him. He was laughing at himself, poking his sentence out like a knife piercing through a ship sail. "Yuck it up. Let it allllll out." and then of course, when he was able to stop laughing along with her, when it was serious time again (maybe?) what a jerk she was, he'd waved at her arrival back at the Gods Must Be Crazy table at Pete's Cafe and said. "Welcome back, Evan."
Wait, wtf? How was he supposed to make the lights flicker? Like, spirit-finger his hands by his shoulders like he was doing now or point at them. "Am I supposed to do this like Chuck Norris keeps his lawn tidy? Stare at the grass and dare it to grow? You, light!" the rusty God commanded with a point. "I dare you... flicker!" you fucking bitch light, not flickering. I have a nymph princess to impress. The siiiiiigh was quite obviously bristled -- what was he thinking anyway? That lights would listen to him? It was making him irritated just thinking about it.
And then, like a shuddering of the oracles mesh robes at Delphi to swim her heels in the constellations of the sky for riddles, the tiniest, faintest, merest flicker of the lights happened. Just a blink. Asserting the attention of not only his instantly crushed together Olympian brows that really did need their own reality show, but the people stammering in the cafe who wouldn't have the slightest idea as to why he'd said: "If I am Zeus, I've got a long way to go before I get my lightning back..."