Victor shook his head. Initial annoyance was quickly abated the instant he heard her voice. Where had he heard that voice before.
He could hear her voice, knew she was already there even before he entered the vast throne room, with its immense pillars of marble. Her voice was melodic, danced through the air, was pleasing to his ears. He would say something to her about it when she leaned over to pour the ambrosia into...
"Aw, forget about it," he said, in slightly New Jersey English that years in University and writing and trips abroad could not shake. He shook the image from his head, however. Weird. Then, he got a good look at her.
"It's totally ok." He offered her a smile, brilliant and beaming and sunny.
And she had such a nice smile. He loved to whisper to her while she was pouring, relished seeing her full lips curve upward when he would say things that were most inappropriate for their sacred meetings...
He closed the notebook, and the journal over it. "No harm done. Are you alright?" he asked, genuinely.