Mon Papa, le dieu suprême.

Ask about family, or childhood friends — maybe even pets!

Ask about family traditions, or maybe embarrassing stories.

Ask about childhood fears.

Ask about painful memories, or maybe happy ones.

"It sounds interesting," she said, beginning to scroll through the play. She felt Francis move closer to her, and she leaned into his touch. It was comforting. Most days in the monastery were spent in respectful distance from people—no hugs, no kisses, nothing like that. Her father rarely hugged her and such, so she embraced Francis touch, his warmth not for any romantic reason, but for the sheer fact that she’d been deprived.

Her leaning against him, he indulged her and leant against her as well, now next to her with the entirety of his side against her. His eyes went from the play to her and back, wishing to see reaction, though what he got was underhwelming. Still, something in the way her hand gripped the phone revealed a little more than the criticism given. At least, thats how Francis interpreted it.

"Its a romance. A Greek Comedy but a romance in a way, with the gods simply working the machines. Godly Bet is simply...it does not reveal what I wanted." Words were knives and he wished to cut his blade through the soul, to reveal the most vulnerable of emotions and invoke the kind inspiration that  could only be caused by enlightenment. A story in which the plight of man would touch the Gods,  and in which while all would be well, the heart would still pang in need.

Francis put his elbow on the top if her head gently and pointed right at his phone. "See this? Read on from here this part of the monolouge the fiancé gives to the married man. 'A man is not made from his conquests! He is made from his character, and if you aren't memorable enough to make it that way, you aren't worth remembering.' Ahah, I love that part. I sort of think of it in your father's voice. I mean, have you heard him? Sexy, Xuan..." and with that he leant closely into her ear and murmured in a sulty voice, "...Heavy and slowwinded, like making love." Moving from her, he laughed about it and scrolled down a little further."'You are no man to assume of me! Only the Gods may cast their judgements!' This needs to be a powerful voice right here!" Francis puffed his chest and sat very tall. "The alpha male, with a voice full of years, but still the brashness and temper of immaturity. Do you not agree?"

Every time Xuan ran out of things to say or didn’t know what to say, she brought up Juliette, perhaps waiting for some news that Francis was no longer associated with her, but that’s never how it happened.

At the mention of the plat, Xuan perked up. “A play?” she asked. “What’s it about?”

Besides, his and Juliette's relationship couldnt possibly bring Xuan any entertainment.

Handing her his phone to see, he leant over and pointed at the title. "Kiss me," Francis stated, bringing himself closer to her. "The title is 'Kiss me' and its about finding happiness in love. You have a giggilo, a man in an affair with his wife and a man about to marry. The Gods take control of each of their loves as part of a bet to see which lifestyle works best. Pure sexual freedom, a life of pure unwavering commitment, or a life lived with both." Francis was sure the thing was his absolute best work, though this was simply just to see if he was any good at writing for the genre.

Katherine usually seemed to be hiding something behind her eyes and back, never once allowing herself to . Her mannerisms were far more deliberate, almost as though she is performing for an audience, and even her speaking voice seems harsher, more cutting than anyone else’s — even another child of Hades.

It would have been ridiculous to assume that Katherine didn’t seek love and affections, but she didn’t know how to go about it. She didn’t know how to open herself up, to allow herself to love someone else. What she had with Francis had been the closest to a “loving relationship” she had ever had, and she still treated him like a shit head. 

Francis stuck it out because he knew better, and he understood that there was something...a reason that she acted the way she did. Yes, her mother, and her childhood were both wrecks, and perhaps Francis too would be the way she was had he been in her situation. Of course, there as her mother could one day get better,  and perhaps towards the end of their lives, they could reconcile, all Francis could do  was stare at two slabs of stone, side by side. One of the man that caused the chance meeting, and then the woman who ultimately made a mistake. In the end, it left him with only a father who occasionally came by and the rest of his time, Francis tended not to be around other adults...at least not long enough to have any sort of figure of guidance. What he knew came from observations and it gave him quite a different impression of things. This was where the two set apart. Francis and Katherine whom could have been sown together at the hip were separated by the circumstances of their very different lives. 

When Xuan first met him, she’d had no inclination of being in a relationship, but then she grew to know him. After that punch, they became very close friends, and that rapport grew into platonic, sibling love—and her fate was sealed. She thought she’d be okay—who cared? But… they were close and their friendship only grew—and being demisexual, Xuan only grew other kinds of fondness for Francis that she wouldn’t ever tell him… because he had Juliette.

Francis was not a man that usually went back on things, and the way their relationship had gone through, well...there was not much of a chance at this point for Francis to become Xuan's lover, was there? Yes, at one point he would have certainly accepted such an offer and a relationship certainly more interconnected could have been stricken between then but she didn't wish it. Her sexuality did not involve him, and if it did now, it was far too late to make the call back. Surprisingly, Francis was a one woman man when it came to love. Sharing was something between friends...but what they were? No. Lovers was not the word. Francis and Juliette were not lovers. They were boyfriend and girlfriend. However, even this was more than what she had with Francis. Whilst the man spent evenings snogging her underneath the bedsheets, stilling themselves over touches more significant than the last, Francis would stay up entire nights with Xuan, playing long sessions of Elder Scrolls Online and literally arguing about the merits of being the Paladin to the point that it sometimes seeps into their regular talks. Where Francis and Juliette go out for lunch and romantic dinners, Xuan and Francis have coffee sessions like this one today.

That's not to say that isn't a good fate. A friendship is sturdier. Francis needn't worry that the person he considered his sister would have a brother behind his back. He needn't worry about other people talking to her  for the same reasons as he worried about Juliette. There would be no points in which he'd need to sell the idea of sex to Xuan and no, he wouldn't need to feel guilty about their age difference either considering that either.  Mostly because he wouldn't be in that situation anyways. These were good things. A relationship was risky. And that wasn't to say he wasn't risking a friendship on their relationship, but Xuan and his was so tight at this point, that there were probably more chances in Leonardo Di Caprio actually not dying from hypothermia in Titanic than their relationship not being ruined if things did not work out. Yes, things were just fine.

“Don’t be invitin’ him.” the cat said in something resembling a very thick Jersey accent. “Ya got me now sweet cheeks.” 

That cat. That cat was far too intelligent for it's own good! In fact, he only meant for the blasted thing to be sentient! The fact that it talked in a Jersey accent disturbed him powerfully. Moving back from the cat that had plopped itself on her stomach, he watched it with eyes bulging, and lips stretched out enough that one could certainly say lines were jealous of how straight his were. How the heck did that even happen?! Why was that cat talking?! Why? Who--wait, what?!

What did that cat say to her?! Did it just tell her not to invite him, and call her sweet cheeks?!  Was that cat attempting to put some sort of restrictions between the two of them? Take her away from him?! Oh no, he'd put it down before he'd allow anything to get between the two of them! Francis was by nature, a jealous creature, and even the threats of a cat made of nothing but clouds made him livid. After all, it starts with a little attention...then agreeing that he was nothing but a third wheel and finally, he'd just be back at  Sapphire New York Gentleman's Club with his father, attempting to catch himself a lucky break for the night in some attempts to drown out his feelings with sex. And that's not to say that she wasn't simply something distracting him from that life! She was the first person that he's taken seriously in a relationship. In a way, this was his first love, and the drug which came from all their years together was something he simply couldn't let get away from him.

There was something about arguing with a cat though. A cat that he made as a present for her. No, it was not only shameful, but it was stupid too. Not only was it also stupid, but additionally embarrassing!  He knew how it went!  'You're being silly, Francis! Do you really think I'd leave you for Figaro? Think about what you're thinking!' Oh, but it was easier to think about things when one was the daughter of Aphrodite, wasn't it? It was a ticket down easy street. Abs were sculpted from the body, and curves as sensual as theirs were gifted from the boon of the woman herself! Men would knock down her door daily and he... hah. He'd built quite the reputation for himself. It wasn't a particularly good one, since before his nervous breakdown he had  been following his father's footsteeps religiously.  No, he's turned things around for himself slightly, but it wouldn't have been if it weren't for her! None of it.

Francis shook his head at the way she simply agreed that he wouldn't be around all the time, and instead of actually confronting them for speaking like this infront of him, the man with emotions easier to cut than aged parchment, would simply take his business elsewhere, placing the cigarette in his mouth and leaving the cabin wordlessly. He shouldn't have done this. He knew that Aphrodite was going to trick him with this deal and he still took it anyways! Despite knowing that she was constantly testing his will, he took it. At least his father had easier terms to negate! The Goddess of Love was just twisted.

Lighting it up, he took a deep drag of the cigarette, holding in the fumes as long, and as deeply into his lungs as he could, before they'd come out of his nose naturally, like he was the embodiment of fire, of craftsmanship, and of all that meant the birth of life, through the means that were most deadly. The man felt so powerful, so in control, which was more than he could say for how he felt in this particular situation. How was it that he inherited so much from his father? Not only the good but the downright deplorable qualities of him that made most crinkle their nose in protest?! Why was he so angry about this?! Was it normal for his heart to tear so terribly over such a petty thing? For his soul to smolder away like the tip of his oily rag?! The face he gave off was hard...intense with a burning pang that glinted off the agony that was brought off.

This was just a cat! A cat that happened to have an attitude! Was it so easy for him to be flickered?! Powerlessness...he hated it, and so knowing that a smooth personality not in a cat but in a person could so easily swoop her up with a few good lines...well it wasn't good. She'd not treat most men that acted like this  well, but it only took one.

Friendship was a precariously held thing, and the three of them had ties, one way or another. Perhaps not directly upon the triangle, but enough for the three of them to know each other's names and their favourite colours, despite how much love or hate came from all three sides. On an expositional level, Francis would like to say that the two are very kind, very loving people whom he cherished more than the air he breathed and the dirt that kept him from being to far flung. Still, something kept them apart. Something kept them together, but it also kept them apart.

A story somehow akin to the Christmas Carol, Francis sometimes found himself thinking, 'what if I had chosen differently'? Would he have instead a woman that loved him and spent his time teasing him about his interests in college art films and manga despite his finesse, his love for the culture of the bourgeoisie and his artistic ability? Or would he constantly be egging her on even more for sex than he did with Juliette, only for more...negatively physical results? Certainly, they would not be as they were, and the life he'd have would have him wondering the same thing he was now.

If he ever did get to meet that man, whom surprised everyone by choosing the very reserved Vietnamese girl from the monastery rather than the very happy-go-lucky woman that he was dating now, he would tell him of how much he didn't regret the decision. He'd speak of days spent simply lying down on the floor of a creaky wooden floor, thinking about what the world would be like for them in another life. They'd speak of days that were spent seemingly laughing at nothing at all, where the connection of skin, grooves simply brushing against each other softly would spark literal electricity in a way that simply inspired words. Words that would shatter the heart and pierce so deeply into the soul, that the benevolence brought onto them by blessed Gods of romance would be the ones to write songs of them. The forlorn could hope of a love like theirs, and gain inspiration that would bring to them the promise of not tomorrow, but perhaps a day somewhere distantly beaconing beyond the horizon.

What he saw in Juliette was not a matter of not only who she was, but what she was like, and when she appeared to him. Impressions change people, and a punch to the face as a way of repulsing a person to another in the way of romance. But not Francis. Oh no. What happened between woman before him and the man he used to be shaped them to be friends. To being family. The fact that one may fall in love after the ties are cemented only made such ties much more difficult to rearrange. Juliette never let the door creak open. It was always tightly shut or wide open, and such things spoke with Francis on a deeper level. On a level that needed his passion to fuel her. No, he wasn't saying she needed him. Actually it was the other way around. Years of chasing after open door brought the fire to a flare, and once he did get in, once the friendship did start, and it would curve itself so deliciously into a romance, Francis only fell deeper in love with her. Experiences as a collective shape the relationship. Impressions can change oh so quickly.

The love that came afterward cemented them. A life in which they could both be there one day and gone tomorrow made it entirely sure in Francis's mind that they would be together for the rest of their days. After all, whom else did they know so well other than each other? Relationships transcended bloodlines and the greatest ones were the triumphs of the human soul, Greek comedies known millennia beyond the death of their originators. The same would be the same for these two-- he felt it in his heart, and never has such a new tool to him been so right so many times. Love was a new thing for a man that spent nearly his entire teenage life, and the beginning steps of his adult one, thinking with the wrong head.

But sometimes it sucked. It sucked being so dislike, it sucked to just be someone’s fuck toy, it sucked to be Katherine Pierce because she was so damn unlikable. She was just as beautiful as Juliette, just as snarky and sassy as Xuan, just as smart as a son or daughter of Athena… but she had to be born to Hades! She was her father’s daughter, and her mother was a fucked up drug addict. 

Francis also didn't want to deal with people who seemed to treat him like a literal litter box. There was a point in his life that he'd allow it of everyone, but it only caused him trouble and although it still existed within the closest of his relationships, it was not prevalent enough for Francis to allow it of people  like Katherine. Yes, she was a fantastic fuck and getting between her thighs was one of the best experiences that the man ever got to live, but unfortunately, the personality that came with the body was not as easy to swallow as his essence down her throat. No, she was terribly disrespectful, violent and so extreme that it was a wonder that she had friends at all! This of course, was his belief, and despite it, she was one of the closest friends he ever had. It was not her looks, her sass, or her intelligence that made Francis, son of Zeus like her. No, it was what she had done for him, and the experiences they shared together.

Katherine had been there for Francis longer than anyone else had been. Longer than his brother and Xuan and yes, even his darling little Juliette, whom was the light of his life. Out of the four people he trusted the most, Katherine had seen him through so much more than anyone else had. No, she wasn't his very best friend, but she was a very good one. When he'd come home from a quest,bones broken and and spirit faded, she came helped him on his feet. When he was sick, she was there and sat by his bed all night if it took so! The daughter of Hades had been there for her for every single most important event of his existence and so the least he could do was extend his friendship, and devotion on a deep level. Yes, she became frigid, and nearly unbearable but Francis made it work. He needed to make it work. Still, it was so damn difficult sometimes! It was easier on the immediate level for him to remember how great in bed than how she'd spoonfed him when he couldn't even hold one in his hand when she spoke about punching him repeatedly in the face for giving her a ring. Good deeds need to be reminded sometimes.

Internal turmoil was something they were both used to but in so different ways. Francis had no mother, and the one that did exist hated him for something that wasn't even his fault. His entire existance was the bane of her life, from an action that would haunt her even in dreams. His father on the other hand...well, his father loved him, he imagined. Sure, he'd take him to strip clubs on his birthday to get himself laid but it was better than not seeing him at all, right? Right? Love was confusing to him, yet he was enamoured with the idea of unconditional love that was actually shown to him all the time. He wanted to be loved! To be shown the deepest extents of what being devout meant and to have something...something better than his life. Than Katherine's life. Where she fell into the trap of being the result of a bad life, Francis managed to escape it, though naturally, not unscathed.