"Call me a eunuch one more time..." Vergil spoke, his voice low as thunder before the storm "...and I'll drag you down to Hell, put you in a nail chair, and leave you sitting right in front of Sapphire. Smiling. And without a beauty filter."
His gaze was piercing, yet it wasn't pure anger per se. It was more like a primal curiosity that hung over his thoughts.
Of course, he was different so the look hit Aphrodite, which made her freeze. Literally.
Her shoulders shrugged, her breathing faltered, and the smile she'd maintained through sheer force of vanity turned into a nervous spasm.
"Hey! I've already helped you, okay?" she raised her trembling hands as if he were a Gestapo officer. "Then please go away! I... I promise I'll call you when Persephone is available, okay? You have the flower, you have the keywords, you have my trauma. We're even!"
The goddess of beauty, love, lust and sex... now looked more like a teenager who'd been caught fiddling with her mother's handbag.
