"It's alright." Hyacinthe promised, though he nervously tried to shy away from Apollo's comforting hand upon his head, fearful the god's fingers might brush over the roughness of his scar. He kissed Apollo's throat. "I'm alright. I just..." He blushed and cast a glance at the saytrs who tended the bar he was pressed up against. "Not...here, though I'm sure Pan has no qualms about the bar being used for such distractions, the other guest might." He caught himself and chuckled.

"I'm sorry, I am being presumptuous..."