Hermes had expected questions. He had not expected an all-out interrogation.
The moment Dante Quasar mentioned they'd be preparing for time travel, Aphrodite sat forward, bookish eyes bright and his fingers laced neatly on his lap like he was about to take notes.
"Specific date?" He began. "Exact year? Which month? How will we adapt to the culture? Language barriers? What about etiquette? Clothing? Is there going to be some sort of historical immersion training— "
"Do they bathe?" Somner cut in.
He was leaning on the table, chin propped in his palm, eyes alight with curiosity. "And what if everyone smells terrible? Do I have to smell terrible? Because I have a routine, Mister Q. A very important one. Also... what if everyone's ugly? I don't want to be trapped in the Middle Ages if everyone looks like rotting bread—"
