♒ my muse giving yours a message
“Marcie...” Dio started with his hand on his son’s shoulder.
It had taken several uncomfortable seconds for the god to decide whether to put his hands on Marcel’s shoulder. It seemed like a very fatherly thing to do, but Dionysus wasn’t exactly known for his fatherliness, and Marcel didn’t seem like he had wanted any contact - physical or otherwise - with his father since he had unceremoniously ejected Dionysus from his life. But it felt right and Dio thought it would look good from an outside perspective, so hand on shoulder it was.
“You are more than welcome in my bar. In fact, I would love to see more of you in general. I know you don’t feel the same way but... well, anyway, I know you hate me, but you shouldn’t take that hatred out on innocent- well, non-involved bar patrons, you feel me? If you’re mad at me, take it out on me, yeah? I can’t let you stay in the bar if you’re gonna harass customers.”
Dio didn’t like the feeling of giving his son the same talk he might give one of his hot-tempered regulars after having a few too many. Does he really hate me this much?














