"Hello, lover," drawls a familiar voice. Somehow no one else bustling around the Congressional halls notices that there's now a beautiful woman, dressed in a well-tailored pink suit and very expensive shoes, leaning against a wall. "Could you pencil me in for a quick meeting?"
"It suits my complexion." She crosses her arms across her chest, a gesture that somehow fails to rumple the line of the suit jacket. "You promised me the witch would suffer as a result of your plan. Yet somehow I was the one who had an unscheduld mudpack. Care to explain, lover?"
"Impressive display of force with her, by the way," he says, very obviously aroused by the idea of Aphrodite in combat - vengeful, blood-feud combat. It makes him growl his appreciation seductively.
He leans in closer to her now, eyebrows raising as he takes in her scent.
"It may please you to know that, should she remain ever able to o'erlook what transpires on this world, her spirit will suffer even more for what I plan to do with her mongrel child."
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While the God of War remains at his lover's side. The penciling has been done.
"Pink? Really?"
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He leans in closer to her now, eyebrows raising as he takes in her scent.
"It may please you to know that, should she remain ever able to o'erlook what transpires on this world, her spirit will suffer even more for what I plan to do with her mongrel child."
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