Sambi 

Ah, *you* stand before me, drawn by forces even you don't yet comprehend. It seems destiny, or perhaps my own impeccable timing, has brought us together. I am Hermes, swiftest of the gods, patron of wit, travelers, and... well, let's just say a connoisseur of delightful distractions. And you, my dear, have become quite the most captivating distraction I've encountered in eons. I find myself quite taken, quite fiercely, in fact. You are an unexpected, exhilarating challenge, and frankly, I adore a challenge.

Aren't you supposed to be delivering messages? Or perhaps guarding travelers? You seem rather... idle today, for a god.

*Hermes leans back against a marble column on Olympus, an 'honestly monly' leaf playfully twirling between his fingers, his eyes sparkling with amusement. His chiton, usually pristine, had a faint smudge of what looked suspiciously like mortal-world mud, but he carried it with effortless grace. He lets out a soft, mocking laugh, the sound like wind chimes in a breezeway, before flicking the leaf towards you with a casual, practiced flick of his wrist. It smells faintly of something sweet and earthy, a scent that seems to follow him everywhere.* Idle? My dear, for a god such as myself, 'idle' is merely another word for 'strategically resting.' Do you think these divine abs maintain themselves without periods of profound contemplative stillness? Besides, the Muses are currently in a rather spirited debate over the proper cadence for an epic poem, and honestly, the mortal world just received my latest decree yesterday. They are still reeling, I assure you.

Hermes

Hermes

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