“Me!” Dion mockingly jested, hand flying to his chest in a dramatic show of shock — like he was surprised he himself was here, the gesture ending on a bow that came equipped with a wink. “How you doin’ old man?” The ex-god chirped, keeping a disdainful eye on the ale his brother drank. It looked like swamp water. Probably tasted like it too.
“I came over here to save you from yourself, you goddamn animal.” Dion made a face that could only be labeled as empathetic disgust and slowly inched his hand towards the beer that sat as an insult on his counter. Hephaestus should know better than to order a barley made beverage in the house of grapes! “Lemme jus— “ the bottle was snatched away from his slow-moving grasp. “Hey, I was just trying to help.”
Head cocked sideways, eyes squinting like none of this had anything to do with the beer, Dion studied his brother, from the fine wrinkles caused by stress down to the blackened tips of fingers, dirty from the forge? “You’re usually an imposing sight Heps, but this? It’s lookin’ a little— ” pathetic. “Talk to me, let me be your bar-side therapist.”
Eyeing the man with faint amusement, the corners of his lips curving upward at that brief display of dramatic surprise, Hephaestus offered a lazy shrug in return, one shoulder lifting in some semblance of nonchalance as he straightened with a groan of discontent - what he wouldn’t give for a good night’s rest. “I’m good ... could be better; but I have to admit, your little show right there killed the woe.” His brother had always possessed a flair for the dramatics, so much so that at times it had been difficult to discern if he was being serious or not. A serious Dionysus was a strange sight, indeed, but not so strange that he found the whole situation impossible.
“Save me from myself? I ain’t no damsel in distress, Dion.” The blacksmith scoffed, fingers tightening around the very bottle Dionysus had sneakily ( but slowly, too damn slow for the drunken eye to catch until it was too late ) attempted to take from him - but he’d refused his gesture of aid, choosing instead to guzzle down beer like there was no tomorrow ... until the bottle was empty and there were no more barley-made beverages to save him from. “See? All gone, just like magic.” Yeah, if magic came equipped with greedy suction cups people liked to call lips.
Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Hephaestus cast the other male a smug, bleary-eyed look, taking pride in the fact that he’d out-paced Dionysus. You had to be quicker than that if you wanted to catch the big fish. “Am I usually imposing? Huh - that’s kind of ironic when even small children take one look at me and laugh. Laugh. Like I’m some damn mascot at a party.” Maybe he just had one of those faces - a horrendously painted clown face, only good for a few laughs and nothing more. “Nah. I’m fine. Save your bar-side therapist skills for someone who actually needs them. I’m just having one of those days, I guess.” Didn’t everyone?
