With some suspicion... permission granted.

More startled than he lets on, Thanatos freezes for a moment, then relaxes. “Which of my brother’s brats is this, huh?” He pats his nephew’s arm and peers to see.

﹡ ﹙ ﹠. ﹚𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 ; And with 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙮 knuckles . . . you’d follow me 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚. ⌁ mythsthomagic. © deadriggs

Breathes.

Not for LONG.

A cue to leave? He has work to do anyway. Death never sleeps.

D was the one who walked into an Underworld party — what did he expect?

He’s just making her job easier, putting the distance himself. Have fun.

Parties usually come to him, don’t they? Chance would have it that at /some/ point, it would have to be an Underworld party.

Alright. Yep. Drinks with Dionysus. Sounds like a dream.

Where has this been the last thousand years, and why has Dion been keeping it to himself? Pour him a glass, he’s parched.

They’ve all been drinking wine, D. But the shitty, mortal-made stuff. Guess they shoulda listened sooner. He’s sitting. Change his life. Fix his heart. Oof.

They’ve been on an all-wine diet in an attempt to feel ~anything~. Look, they’re stupid, and they certainly don’t learn from their mistakes. Too busy running the world or something. Thanatos takes the cup and rejoices (downs it in one go).

... Okay, even Thanatos isn’t as edgy as Kronos, and that’s saying A Lot.

He’s looking for some, damn.

Pleasantly surprised. He’s taking the water, and, uh, issuing a formal “thanks” for the effort.

Chokes.