What’s Mint To Be

No, no, this was Charon! His ferryman! Who…didn’t remember him. He had been in Athens long enough to realize that the curse had been more affective on some compared to others but why did it have to be him? Why did the fates continue to punish him, wasn’t being torn apart by vines enough? No, he had to continue to suffer.

Thank the gods he was an actor or the awkward silence would have been filled with him having a complete breakdown, “No need, I was running late too,” a lie “Have some water you look a bit rough.” He pressed a cold bottle into Charon- Garrett’s empty hand, being careful not to brush against bare skin knowing his self control was hanging on by a thread…Which didn’t take long to snap. He needed to touch, needed to know that the person standing before him was real, lack of memories or not. So, he reached out and messed with the man’s coat angling it perfectly on his body, but that wasn’t enough. Carefully he reached up and brushed loose strands of hair out of Garrett’s face as a fond smile found its way onto his lips, “There, perfect-“ he turned around to pick up his things suddenly embarrassed after remembering just who they were- two strangers- a celebrity and his chauffeur, “I’ll send you a pdf the addresses I usually go to later. Let’s head to your car now, the restaurant I have a reservation at is twenty-five miles away, sorry about that sweetheart. No matter how much I begged they wouldn’t move it somewhere closer and then- and then they had the audacity to cancel on my last minute saying they were meeting with a more popular actor. Like, thank you, cause that didn’t tank my self confidence.” He was rambling, he was nervous.

Celebrities are a kind of their own, Garrett remembered hearing from his father. But he was fairly certain this piece of invented wisdom was spoken with fondness as his father swooned over his Hollywood wife. In no way could the man have predicted his oldest son would find himself frozen in place while a singer-songwriter fixed his hair and patted him down like a worried mother. Nobody would ever mistake him for a social person, but even he knew this was a level of intimacy beyond strangers.

Uncomfortable with how comfortable he felt, Garrett took a long step back, putting enough space between them that he could clear his head. “Cancelled? Then why are you going, if I may ask?” He grimaced at his own curiosity. Just because the rich man started it didn’t mean he could overstep his boundaries!

Swiftly with the elegance and poise of a man who has done this many times before he linked arms with the god and guided him out into the hallway, clicking off the dressing room lights before they left, “Now sweetheart, tell me about yourself. I’m sure you know plenty about me from the complaints in my file stating how nosy of a passenger I am,” he winked at the other and settled comfortably against his arm as they strolled in to the foyer, waving at the director as they walked past. With a poorly hidden grimace he whispered, “I hate that man- Tell me everything. How’s your family? Do you have siblings? What’s your favorite food? Favorite color? How do you take your coffee? Humor me.”

The two made it to the car as Minthe finished talking and he nonchalantly slid into the passenger seat, “I don’t like sitting in the back, it feels so…impersonal.”

He had been hovering around the club debating whether or not to go in when a familiar face came out dragging a man behind her. In the back of his mind Dimetre knew it would be bad publicity if he was caught watching in amusement as this woman beat up a drunkard outside a club, but he was easily swayed by his sadistic curiosity. He could only puff out an exasperated laugh when Cerberus spoke to the disappearing crowd, taking a step closer and tipping his sunglasses- which did little to hide his identity- down, “He still has you working like a dog, shit still stinks, huh? Even as a mortal you have no agency? Cut the leash, puppy.”

.

          Cerberus frowned because why did everyone think Hades would approve of her actions? Of course he would assume that though, considering who he was and who he most certainly was not. It was all rather boring to Cerberus though, the nonsense love was causing in getting everyone back on track. “Envy is an ugly colour on you, Minthe” Cerberus responded, kicking the man on the ground with one of her boots, stepping over them to close the short distance between the two. “I thought you’d moved on, now you’re here, at his club, attempting to insult him and it’s not working because I don’t care for agency, I don’t care for being a mortal. Give me back my three fucking heads and put a leash on each one.”

“Of course, but only if you join me,” He locked arms with the bouncer and placed his head on her shoulder, “I really missed you, you were my only friend in the underworld for such a long time.”

Minthe: Yes, but this is a wonderful way to make friends, isn’t it? Minthe: You’re going to keep secrets from your new buddy? How rude. I’m rethinking this friendship. 

hermes: what the fuck you want, tosser?

Dimetre rolled his eyes and placed a hand on his hip, amused by this fake little ruse the gorgon was playing, “Honey, we both came to the same end by rotten brothers, you don’t have to lie to me. And if we’re going to be working together we should kickstart this bond as soon as possible.” He held out a latte, swirling it in front of her face, “I know we can run off of spite alone but caffeine tends to help.”

***

Maddie dropped her carefully friendly smile with a roll of her eyes. “Alright, fine. But you can’t blame a girl for keeping it quiet. If they know I know, gods forbid, they might want me to help them.” The very thought seemed to disgruntle her. “I find spite quite energetic, thank you. But I could go for a coffee, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“I’ve come to love the river because it always brings you back to me.”

It was a rough day and Dimetre was sure the fates would find some way to make it worse, still receiving that divine retribution beyond the grave. Eight straight hours of rehearsal with only two breaks due to his ‘lack of time management’- if he was to believe the director- his dinner plans had canceled last minute to interview a different ‘more popular’ celebrity, and he had to train a brand new chauffeur who happened to be late on their very first day.

He shuffled his way to his dressing room, the exhaustion from the day already settling in as the scars wrapping around his arms and legs burned- a not so gentle reminder of his bitter past. Although he desperately wanted to pass out on the floor, just for a measly twenty minutes, he knew it would be best to pack up so he could meet his driver at the door and leave. Moving slowly about the room he hummed a familiar song, the same short tune he’d sing to the passengers traveling down the river of Styx’s. Lost in the memory he didn’t notice another enter the room and he practically leapt out of his skin when he slammed face first into their chest, “Oh gods, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention! I-….oh? Oh…”

He should have known better when he woke to his younger brother stomping around their shared apartment, only to vent his frustrations at Garrett if he so much as rinsed his dishes wrong. He left in a rush just to get away from Vincent’s attitude, and in doing so, accidentally put on his jacket inside out. One of the neighbors passed by just in time to witness him shaking the damned rag as though it had personally wronged him.

Signing into work, his misfortune continued in the form of his boss, coming down from his ivory tower just to inform Garrett that he was assigned a new client, a new face and name and strong… spoiled personality to learn to appease. It was the nature of the job. Uber alone can’t pay for his half of the bills.

Then, and then…! Once he had an address and keys to one of the agency’s private cars, the stupid Porsche wouldn’t even start! A dead battery, it turned out, slipped through the cracks of maintenance. Where he once could have reached his client with time to spare, he had to grab the tools and replace the battery himself. It was faster than looking for a mechanic, and by this point he was considered responsible for anything regarding the vehicle.

Eighteen minutes late, he stumbled through the doors of a nondescript building meant for celebrities doing actual work instead of smiling prettily for paparazzi. He held more familiarity with such locations than he cared to admit, steadying his poker face as he followed directions to one of the dressing rooms. No response came as he rapped his knuckles twice on the door, but the handle twisted nicely beneath his grip. Perhaps Mr. Darc expected one of the staff.

A smaller, softer body greeted him by running headfirst against his torso. It seemed Mr. Darc had not been expecting anyone. Fantastic. Maybe he called for another driver and wasted Garrett’s entire day.

But he was a professional, and one in deep water at that. He had to play it cool, and stepped back with a polite bow. “Garrett Hall. I'm your chauffeur. I would like apologize for my tardiness. There were... unexpected difficulties, but I will personally ensure it never happens again.”

Thank the gods he was an actor or the awkward silence would have been filled with him having a complete breakdown, “No need, I was running late too,” a lie “Have some water you look a bit rough.” He pressed a cold bottle into Charon- Garrett’s empty hand, being careful not to brush against bare skin knowing his self control was hanging on by a thread…Which didn’t take long to snap. He needed to touch, needed to know that the person standing before him was real, lack of memories or not. So, he reached out and messed with the man’s coat angling it perfectly on his body, but that wasn’t enough. Carefully he reached up and brushed loose strands of hair out of Garrett’s face as a fond smile found its way onto his lips, “There, perfect-“ he turned around to pick up his things suddenly embarrassed after remembering just who they were- two strangers- a celebrity and his chauffeur, “I’ll send you a pdf the addresses I usually go to later. Let’s head to your car now, the restaurant I have a reservation at is twenty-five miles away, sorry about that sweetheart. No matter how much I begged they wouldn’t move it somewhere closer and then- and then they had the audacity to cancel on my last minute saying they were meeting with a more popular actor. Like, thank you, cause that didn’t tank my self confidence.” He was rambling, he was nervous.

Dimetre didn’t know whether to laugh of cry. It was only recently that he had become friends with Nemesis, them bonding over their mutual hatred for the king of the underworld, but they seemed to click which was the only reason why he agreed to go out drinking with her. Little did he know he’d be playing babysitter after the fourth shot. He couldn’t blame her, and he didn’t, it was hard for a god to come to terms with their new mortal limitations, and all he could do was be there for her and carefully switch out her drinks with glasses of water.

He paid their tab before returning to the goddess who kept referring to him as ‘hey you’. Brushing strands of lose hair behind her ear he gave a weak laugh, “Oh sweet thing, you’re going to regret this tomorrow. Why don’t we head to my place, it’s closer? You can crash in my guest room if you promise not to hurl everywhere.”

While she couldn’t hold her alcohol in this tiny mortal form of hers, it wasn’t anything she hadn’t experienced before, just in a quicker pace as she went out with Minthe, all the while, able to vent, rant, and whine to the other and get all the aggression she needed out. Even when he switched out the drinks, she was thankful, despite not saying much. 

With a pleading glance up to him, she batted eyes as he pushed back her hair, feeling a rather annoying attachment that she didn’t want to be feeling towards anybody these days. “I just wanted a night out! Just one where I didn’t have to worry about the bigger issues that are coming together!” She continued to whine to him, pout on her lips before nodding. “Get me out of here! I won’t hurl, I’m the goddess of retribution and the goddess of retribution does not hurl!”

Without so much as a thought to the mortal form she had been cursed to, despite her best efforts to forget it on good days, sitting at a bar with drink after drink after drink in her system, the small woman had clearly bitten off more than she could chew, so to speak. In a time before, this wouldn’t have been anything but an afterthought, pale ale paling in comparison to the nectar of the gods, and yet now she should have expected a different reaction without the immunity of protective goddess status. Another cocktail in hand, she looked around the place, surrounded by mortals whom only annoyed her more, before the familiar face focused in through the blurred vision of hers, whether they knew who she was or not didn’t matter, as she flagged them down. “Hey! You—yeah, come here!”

He paid their tab before returning to the goddess who kept referring to him as ‘hey you’. Brushing strands of lose hair behind her ear he gave a weak laugh, “Oh sweet thing, you’re going to regret this tomorrow. Why don’t we head to my place, it’s closer? You can crash in my guest room if you promise not to hurl everywhere.”

         Cerberus’ fist collided with a man’s face outside of Hades club. From the wet stains on his knees she had obviously dragged him out of the place and was now keeping him on the cobbled sidewalk to work over. It wasn’t exactly good for business for her to be doing this but this wasn’t a work issue, this was an idiot guy who thought he could be grabbing people’s wallets in the club - obviously unaware of the kind of person who owned it. “you don’t fucking come back here,” Cerberus said, knocking him in the face again and feeling blood on her knuckles from the mortal bones in his face caving in.