He can't help but laugh, and it is again more charming than it has any right to be, though a little sadder than he's willing to admit. "I'm the god of poetry, what do you think?" Apollo leans back against his couch again, sprawl still inviting as ever, thoughtlessly attractive but somewhat subdued now.

"..Yeah. I guess I am," he continues, quiet. "Not to say that I get along well with my sister; in fact I think she gets great pleasure out of fucking my life up, but ...I'm a sucker for a pretty face."