He can't suppress a shiver at the warm hand molding the denim against his thigh as it slides down, making his breath pick up as he licks the last stray bit of marshmallow off his thumb.

"This and that," he echoes, but softer, leaning into the god behind him, completely unashamed to fit his back against Pan's front in an intimate embrace, his free hand reaching back to the curve of Pan's shoulder. "A winery, modeling. Properties to manage. A life," he says simply, eyes sliding closed. "I doubt you miss much from him."

The immortal doesn't quite manage to cover the discomfort when he speaks about Zeus. There is too much water under that bridge, as they say.