Well, now. That was definitely a familiar presence, wasn't it? As if caught by an invisible net, Apollo drifted over, half-full glass of Scotch still in hand, and leaned quite casually against a tree trunk next to the lovely boy.

A bit of closer speculation was definitely in order, so the deity examined his quarry a touch more closely, missing nothing. The scar on Hyacinthe's brow cocked a golden eyebrow, but the deity let it pass without comment.

As it was, he merely stood there, wondering how long it would take the other to recognize him.