Apollo downed his fifth cup of wine and slammed the cup on the table. He lay his head down and sighed heavily, "it's no use, I'm not getting drunk."
"You and me both," Hermès mumbled as he tilted the bottle of wine that they had emptied. He leaned back on the chair and looked out to the garden, "it's pretty late."
"Yeah," Apollo responded sheepishly, "we should probably go to bed.. in our quarters.. with our very angry wives."
The two gods had been sitting and drinking in a little gazebo located at the center of the garden. They had literally talked about everything other than the trip they were supposed to make to Messania to make amends and reunite the prince with Habe.
"I mean we could just sleep here," Hermès suggested, "much better than closing my eyes besides an angry Cherlynn. " 'Death by pregnant mortal woman' would be a really embarrassing engraving on my headstone."
