Aphrodite -- Kallisti -- was appreciating the perfect shine of her golden apple, held in her equally perfect hand, when Eris toppled the mug. It was such a perfectly lovely fruit, and despite the harshness of the method with which it was engraved, she had to say that Eris' skill with a blade lent a beauty of its own to the apple, which had adapted her handwriting in a quite aesthetically pleasing, if rough-edged, sort of way. Which suited, in Aphrodite's mind, Discord herself. With a smile, she looked up at the younger goddess, lifting her cup of wine in salute to her consort and children's long-time companion.
"Oh, I adore it, sweet Eris! Nearly as lovely as she who gave it, I should say." The smile she gave Discord was fetching and flirtatious, as was the wont of Aphrodite's smiles, but there was some quirk of mischief about it, too.
For her part, she couldn't understand why the Olympians always seemed to want to exclude the Underworlders. Granted, their lot, particularly Eris herself, liked to stir up trouble, but it could hardly be said that those born on this side of the sky were sweet innocents. Aphrodite refrained from reminding them that she was older than any of Nyx and Erebos' get, born of parents more ancient than the Titans Zeus had vanquished; a lady never spoke of her age. But she remembered a wilder time, before everyone became so consumed with pretending they were more civilized than they truly were.
Eris, at least, was honest. In her way.
"Have you enjoyed the party? I am so glad you were able to make it."