Owner	Pose
Alexander Aaron	In the living room of apartment 3B in Greenwich Village this time of the evening it is often quiet. Tuesday evenings are reserved for a time when the youth who lives there is focused on making what sort of sense as he can with the subject matter before him and this semester has proven more challenging than the youth expected.     History was fine and easy for the most part. Philosophy too since really the Greeks made up most of it. Religion, hah. Easy. Yet there has been one subject that tasked Alexander most thoroughly, and this night was no different. For that subject was Chem 101. Which, for many a college Freshman, was e'er the stumbling block.     He had tried sensory deprivation, locking himself in a room and /trying/ to read but that failed. Had tried puzzling over some youtube videos to help him along. Nothing doing. So difficult has it been that now in the living room of the apartment with its lack of knick-knacks and decor offers few distractions to him. Yet this damn thing still troubles him.     "It's all the math." He calls out, sprawled on the couch upside down with his legs hooked over the back of it, the book held out in front of him as his face slowly turns red. "It sucks!" He declares with some belief.
Ares	John Aaron was not a man who visited with his son very often. It was for his own reasons, not from any lack of love for the boy. That was still how he thought of the young man. He'd always be his boy. The name he had used for him for much of his youth. Even today, it was his term of affection. Though to most, it would not seem such. Not that he cared about the opinions of others. At least that's what he had repeated to himself through the centuries. Yet here he was. At the door of his son's apartment. There was the thudding knock, twice on the door. A heavy hand making impact to be certain it was loud enough, but no threat to the integrity of the structure.
Johanna Mitchell	There is another occupant to the Greenwich Village loft. A recent addition. It's been perhaps a month? Maybe a little longer. It's too soon, really, to call the place home and yet she's fallen into groove with her roommate, and has learned by this point when it's best to just make scarce. For his sake. So while he's lounged in the living room and partaking in fascinating new methods of reading his text book, such as positioning himself upside down, Johanna is locked away within the veritable gym that's been crafted within one of the spare rooms.     Normally she would use a speaker to play out music while she works, but given the Alex's attempt to hunker down and focus, she utilizes a set of air pods. Her feet thump down on a running treadmill in beat to a song that only she can hear (the dull thud, thud, thud, thud, a bare faint thing to the rest of the suite). A white loose t-shirt adheres against her body, and more particularly, against her shoulders where the fabric has begun to soak through and translucent. To the point where it's possible to see the small clothes beneath, and the shade of her dark flesh.      It is more a matter of coincidence rather than any factor that Johanna stops the machine in tandem with the knocking on the door. A small hand towel is slung around the back of her neck and a bottle with condensation dewing all over its frosted exterior is nabbed from the cupholder for a solid gulp of crisp water. She keeps that bottle pressed and tilted to her lips and damn near empties it before stepping off and heading toward the hallway--air pods still in, and blissfully unaware of company.
Alexander Aaron	It's alright that she can't hear, that doesn't stop Alexander from talking to himself. Or rather shouting to himself. Even as he proceeds down the mental pathways that many... many many students at one point or another travel down. Even after the knock he hollars out, "Not like I'm ever going to use this stuff!"     His tone of voice is annoyed, tinged with exasperation, but then there's a /thud-thump/ as the book falls out of his hand and onto the floor, leading to him rolllling to the side and catching his legs on the arm of the sofa, then lifting himself upright. Getting to his feet, only to slouch forward and to the door he hollars again.     "Someone's at the door!" Which is true, and in turn leads him to walk across the distance, into the hall of the foyer, and then to the door.     Johanna only has these three words to prep her as he looks through the peephole. Then leans back. Over his shoulder he shouts again, "It's my dad!"     And then the door's open after the locks are disengaged and the blond youth steps back, smiling a little. "Heya."     Warm greeting.
Ares	Hearing the loud voice from inside announcing someone was at the door had John frowning. It was a few seconds later the door opened, revealing his son standing before him. He flicked his gaze over the area behind the young man, getting a lay-of-the-land in a glance. Then he focused again on Alexander, that heavy gaze always assessing. "Alexander." His deep voice rumbled out, rocks going down a hillside. The warmth was there, for someone who knew of it. But to the outsiders? He may as well be greeting a person he didn't like at the water cooler in the break room. He was a big man, filling much of the doorframe. He immediately took a step forward, presuming that his son would be inviting him in. Even if he hadn't intended to. There is a slight frown on his face, his brow furrowed at that point in the center. "Why did you need to announce someone was at the door? Is that not what the knocking is for?"
Johanna Mitchell	When the music is jammin' and loud, it's more about lip-reading when it comes to understanding what people are saying with air pods in. The 30-something young woman hesitates in the hallway when she realizes Alex is saying something /at/ her rather than continuing to mournfully narrate his frustration with the current academic material. He receives back a, "Hold up. Wait," as she reaches to remove the tiny speaker from her ear, only to realize that Alex is heading toward the door--at which point, she can just kind of guess what it was that he said, and she remarks breezily, "Oh, sure!" And then, with an easy-going grin, "Does... /anyone/ within your social circle ever just call ahead?"     Her feet continue carrying her toward the kitchen, right to the sink. She sets her emptied bottle underneath the faucet, and she cranks the cold water. It floods, overfilling the narrow nozzle on the bottle, and she adjusts the stream so that it fills just so--until Alex announces exactly who it is that's at the door, and then quietly from within, Johanna's insides start to curl, clench, and crumble inward.     So that when Alexander opens the door, the door is opened to reveal John Aaron's son, and a deer, fresh from the wilderness that has been caught in blazing headlights standing within the kitchen alcove just beyond the sitting room.     The towel that had been laid on the back of her neck is promptly snatched and thrown into the sink, discarded after a quick and discreet wipe against the inside of her palms. The question that is asked is answered by herself, offered with a beaming, gay smile that, in contrast to John Aaron's brand of warmth, is as obvious and as radiant as campfire on a winter night. "Oh, he was just letting me know. I had headphones on."     And having mentioned it, she quickly dislodges the other air pod from her ear. It's left behind with its pair in the kitchen as she makes a quick and quiet stride into the sitting room. "Johanna, incidentally," she adds, an indicating hand over her chest.
Alexander Aaron	"Oh that reminds me." Alexander says as he stands there, now off to the side a little and giving free rein for Ares to wander on in and make his usual once-over of the place. The youth holds up a hand and points at his father as he says, "I am dating someone."     And that, of course, is the moment when Johanna makes her appearance so clearly.     "And that someone is Johanna. Mitchell. Johanna Mitchell." That said, Alexander steps back and uncurls a hand in her direction, "Johanna, this is John Aaron, my father." Though that might lead Ares to think he hadn't told her about what they are. So he adds a little quickly, "She knows about us, and the whole, you know, Olympus thing."     Which then has him scooching around the two of them, behind Johanna, and then over toward the kitchen. Over his shoulder he yells, "Want something to drink?" He calls out to whomever might want to say yes. Since yeah, a beer might be good for this.     There's the sound of the refrigerator door opening, the clink of glass on glass, and then the sound of it closing again.
Ares	Dating someone. That gets a glance from John for a moment then he focuses his attention on the woman in the room. Even as he is moving around, taking in each thing around him. Windows. Doors. He'd patrol the whole house normally but given there is someone else present, he forgoes his explorations. He's seen the place before, he knows what else there is. Yet, the urge is strong in him to always be checking. He assesses Johanna for long moments, picking up on things a warrior would. Plus being who and what he is, he can see far more than simply what is visible. The soul of a warrior is like a beacon to him, moreso than her brightness. There is darkness under that aura, under her veneer. It pleases him. Yet outwardly? He goes into mortal mode. He gives a smile to the woman, becoming more friendly with such a simple movement of a few facial muscles. "Johanna. It is a pleasure to meet you. I hope you will not hold my reputation against me." He gives her a brief nod. "Yes, a beer would be wonderful," he calls out more loudly toward his son. Then long seconds later, he finally starts to move again, taking his focus off Johanna and looking around the apartment. He moves over toward a window, even going so far as to peek behind a curtain.
Johanna Mitchell	Underneath John's assessing stare, Johanne resolves to merely bask in the attention. To retain a polite smile. To meet his gaze back and to even cock her head partially to the side. For as much as she is taken into account, she's observing him back in a curious manner. Is this what she pictured the god of war to look like? She studies the broadness of his face, and then roves in her gaze to take in the boldness of his physique, and in a sense, it is like taking in the scope of a mountain range while standing at the base of it.     "I mean. As long as you don't hold it against me that I'm more or less unpresentable at the moment." A hand is shoved through her hair, and then she gestures with that same hand to indicate... well... all of herself. "Didn't quite intend to meet you for the first time like this, but!" Ahh, and there it is. The note of an optimist determined to make due with circumstances. "Bombs away, I guess."     In times of great stress a beer is one of those heavenly, god-sent (hur hur) things. And yet. It is promptly, and quickly rejected with a called back, "I'm good, thanks!" Because Johanna could sense her inner brain scattering to the four corners of the earth and the last thing she needed was something that would hasten the process. But it's that small, casual offering of normalcy that assists her in stepping back from her own head space and into the present. She throws out casually, "Alex mentioned at some point within the last week or so that you were in town for a bit," and then, peering over the edge of her shoulder, she back-pedeals with sneakered feet until the back of her calves hit the edge of a recliner, and she tosses herself into it. "He talks about you often."
Alexander Aaron	Emerging from the kitchen and holding a trio of beers which... isn't he underage? Alas the tangled webs we weave. Yet he carries them out through the kitchen doorway and to the small breakfast nook area where he uses the bottle opener attached to the wall to /click/ the caps off and pocket them one after the other. One is offered first to Johanna, rejected, before Alexander then wends his way through the furniture and towards his father to offer one as well.     "I wouldn't say 'often' like when it comes up." Alexander says with that same calm tone he has when interacting with most anyone, though part of him seems a touch more subdued in his father's presence.     "Is there, umm, something you're looking for?" He shoots a glance back at Johanna answering whatever silent question she might have send his way with a small shrug of his shoulders before he looks back to the tall man. "I was studying. Very important studying of. Things."
Ares	That third beer will not go to waste, assuredly. He accepts the offered beverage, taking a large draught. Enough that three-quarters of the bottle is gone just like that. Certainly that lonely beer Johanna chose to pass on will find a home with the god in due time. "Like..what? Me arriving unnanounced?" John drops the curtain back into place as though a kid caught with a hand in a candy jar, when Alexander asks that question. "I should have called first. Or...texted." His distaste of that last word is palpable in the deepening of his tone. He gives a mock shudder. Like his thumbs work well on a screen of that size! "I am uncertain why you are unpresentable. You are comely." And there is the hint he is not like normal folks, using a word like that. "Well-formed. Sweat is nothing for shame, though for some reason some seem to think it is unpleasant. You could be covered in blood and it wouldn't offend my senses." Probably not the most reassuring of phrases either but he says it like it's nothing. Which for him, it is. "Speaks of me often? I can only imagine." John does not for one minute assume it is all pleasant. He was a harsh figure to deal with as a father. He had no illusions otherwise. He moves a bit more then peeks behind a chair before finishing off his beer. "Studying of...important things." That brings all the heaviness of his gaze back to his son. "What things of importance are you learning?"
Johanna Mitchell	Johanna makes one of them, "Tchk," sounds with her tongue and she counters Alexander while crossing her legs, one over top of the other, so that her sneakered foot bobs openly above the floor. "'When it comes up'--you mean when you bring it up," she counters with a grin, a grin that quickly softens as she shoots a glance back at Ares--and perhaps she's not qutie on the ball about what type of father-son relationship they hold, like whether or not they're the type to be verbally affectionate, but it's a good intent that's there when she further elaborates. "It's actually kind of cute. If he's got something sagely to say he usually credits it back to some little tidbit of wisdom that he's gleaned off of you. It always starts with, 'Well my father says,'..."     Her words trail and the grin she wears turns positively cat-like, but it's one of those grins that's meant to be a statement in itself, and when that statement is said, she downturns her eyes toward the top of her knee... Visually. Really, she's gazing somewhere past that point, to the floor and beyond.     "I mean," she starts with a wholesome laugh as he mentions her comeliness, hearty and belly-deep with just a touch awkwardness that is born from becoming abruptly self-aware. Her fingers touch the top of her forehead, at her hairline, where some of the sweat still shines--not quite a glisten, but still damp nonetheless. She checks her fingerpads afterward before gushing, "That's really sweet of you to say! I guess it shouldn't matter but sometimes a fresh set of clothes and just a state of feeling clean--well, you know what I'm trying to say."     Not wanting to steal Alexander's question and give the answer away herself, but still all the more curious now that John has gone and called it into question, Johanna shoots the boy a curious look and tags to John's question, "You know. I just realized that you really never told me why you picked the major that you did."
Alexander Aaron	A deep sigh is heard as Alexander relates, "Chemistry." Which should be enough of an explanation. But he takes a sip of his own beer, nowhere near as much as a glug-glug-glug as his father, but he does keep the other beer on hand should he so wish it.     Stepping back to give the man free run of the apartment, he seems to just accept the fact that the man is wandering around poking at things and looking in as he likes. "I speak of you when the occasion calls for it. Usually when I mention why I've learned something, or about my... idiosyncratic childhood."     There is such an ease between them, so many would easily quail under Ares' gaze but the young god of fear? He exhibits no hint of trepidation. Yet his behaviour is more reserved than the norm. At least as far as Johanna has witnessed. Though he does manage to answer her question, "I chose it because I know history good." That last word said with a slight derpy tone of voice.     But then he stops and sets down the extra beer on an end table with a glassy clink. "Ok, spill it. What are you looking for?"
Ares	"Idio sy..." John looks at him, brows rising high above his eyes as he considers the phrase. He doesn't stop because of nto understanding the word, but instead because he is considering what it is referring to. A moment later, those brows fall and are furrowed once more. It is ever such with them. The boy was nto raised in an easy manner. Most people would consider it abuse what he put Alexander through. Yet, for them, it simply was. It was Ares doing the best he could in a role he was never meant to play. A role his family though to be beyond him. Perhaps they were right. Yet his boy was strong. Of mind, body and character. So perhaps he had nto failed after all. "I see. It is good he remembers the lessons." That's about as soft and cuddly as it's gonna get. He doesn't answer about what he is looking for. Instead, he continues to try to look like he isn't looking for something. While looking for something. Next is the kitchen. He actually is opening cabinets then closing them, checking what is inside. "Chemistry is very important to know. It will be used often." Said by someone who literally has no clue outside how to use it to create weapons.
Johanna Mitchell	Search as he might there are few things out from the norm that Ares finds withing the kitchen. The suite carries wonderously pedestrian cutlery, plates, and glasses. Each uniform. Each coming from a standard white set piece found in any common chain home decor set. Perhaps the most suspicious and out of place item that there is to note is that where previously there might not have been anything, there are now vitamins in the cupboard, and a variety of packaged teas. Small, foreign details that are evidence to someone else sharing in the abode and giving it a more human, lived in touch.     "Maybe show your Dad around the other rooms of the apartment?" Johanna suggests after there's a distinct lack of answer on Ares' part concerning his interest in searching. She leans thoughtfully into the chair arm, "Windows might still be a bit fogged," she admits of the gym room, "but there's some good view from the spare room. There's a view of the nearby park. Possibly hidden treasures."     The presence of Ares is such that it fills the home, but for Johanna, it is felt more through the manner in which Alexander conducts himself. The slightly more reserved posturing that plays across as respect being given. Something is quietly and wordlessly asked of Alex through her curious gaze, even as just a few feet behind her, John Aaron starts to complete his investigation of the kitchen. It's the type of dark-eyed stare that sees her chin lifting and her eyes skimming more over the edge of her cheeks rather than staring straight ahead as she readjusts and sits deeper into recliner.
Alexander Aaron	There's a crinkle to the young man's nose as he meets Johanna's glance and this time his answer is something almost... dismissive. As he sort of lifts one hand and waves it to the side.     Arms folding over his chest, Alexander shifts his weight to one foot, his brow furrowing as he looks on after his father while the man still seemingly putters around the house looking into this or that. A deep breath is taken by the young man, held, then released. And for once Johanna likely sees some hint of trepidation and concern there. As if /this/ might be something he should truly be worried about. After a moment he sets foot after the man.     "Ok what's the deal?" Alex says as he leaaaans over to the side, trying to watch his father. "This isn't your normal level of snooping. I have not done anything horrible of late, nor dealt with anything weird of late. So I'm going to assume this is a thing to do with you and..."     Then he stops and frowns, "Oh wait, I actually fought some Egyptian gods the other week." As if that was something so easy to forget. That's when Johanna might actually start to get more concerned because Alexander bites his lower lip with a touch of worry. "Mmm, is it something to do with that? Is it Egyptian related? Are there scarabs in the house? Carnivorous scarabs?"
Ares	"You've been watching too many movies," is the response from John. "Although you must tell me this tale of battling members of the Egyptian pantheon. Soon." He pauses there in the kitchen, seeming to fill the space as he looks to his son. "This has naught to do with Egyptians. It has to do with our family. Does it ever not?" he says in a tone that is very put upon. He turns his gaze to the woman in the other room. "Assuredly you have warned her of such things." His son has to have done so, if she was important to him. This would tell him the answer to that question, without asking how important this woman might be outwardly. He leans closer to his son and murmurs a single word into the young man's ear. "Parnus." Then he is off, stalking into the hallway and intending to check the other rooms after all. They did invite him to do so.
Johanna Mitchell	Alex is sent a look when he waves off her pointed stare. Her teeth clench down on the inside swell of her cheek, and she follows Alex with her eyes rather than her legs when he decides to take a more confronting approach in trying to suss out his father's motivations. On his way to the kitchen he has to pass her and she offers her hand out to his for just a glancing touch. It's a quiet, subtle and warm touch of fingers skimming the side of his hand, and that's it.      It's one of those moments where there's more to be learned on her part than to be said. And so after Alex is in the kitchen and she's in the sitting room just listening, as a point of idle fidgeting, in the same way that nail nibbling is a thing, she presses her thumb against her bottom lip and holds it there as the single word is offered like some type of warning.     Parnus.     Huh.     Not a word she's familiar with. Relatively secure in the idea that no one is directly watching her at the moment, she reaches into her lump in her sidepocket to retreive her phone. A google search is imminent! There's a light click, click, click--exactly three of them--before Johanna wises up and quickly mutes her phone before continuing writing out her query to the search engine.     The results are rather disappointing, or at best, inconclusive judging by the way her lips purse unimpressed to the side.
Alexander Aaron	Exasperation lights in Alexander's eyes and for a moment he might acually look like he's acting his age as he rolls his eyes so hard they might seem like they'll roll right out of his head. He looks away and says grumpily, "Yeees. I gave her the spiel about how our family sucks, and the dangers of being with one of us, and how the Fates don't do us any favors."     But then he looks back up toward his father, frowning the while.     And then that name is uttered. "Seriously? Parnus? Did you do something to piss him off?" And with tha he's walking after his father again, following with him down the hall. Though as he walks by Johanna he gives her a small sign of affection returned, just fingers touching her shoulder and squeezing for a brief moment. For reasons.     But then he's down the hall a bit and still talking, "If I see him I'll give you a call, but haven't seen him in... ages." Which for someone like Alexander that might mean anything from a week to a few months really. Then, as if remembering that Johanna is there he calls out, "Parnus is a cousin. Picture Cupid, but mean."
Ares	"I did nothing, boy," comes the rumbling response of his father, thunder in his tone. Defensive. Annoyed that Alexander thinks he must have done something to trigger such a response from their mischievious cousin. That moment of father and son as they had been when the young man had been a youth. Then John takes a slow breath and shakes his head, forcing himself to stop acting in such a manner. "He needs no reason. He showed up at my home. Made a nuisance of himself. I suspect he may already be here. Call it a hunch." He pauses in the hallway, glancing into the workout room and dismissing it. Then into the bathroom. A moment later, there is the squeal of someone. John steps back out of the bathroom holding up a small child like being with bat wings. "Put me down, God of War!" "Shut up, Parnus. You will cause no trouble for my son and his woman." "You can't keep me for long!" "I can keep you long enough," John warns, giving the little being a violent shake. He strides for the living room, carrying the flailing demon child. "I will leave you both. Alexander, we will visit soon. To share tales and drink." He looks at Johanna, giving her a smile again despite the fact he's holding up this being which is flailing and screaming at him. "It was nice to meet you. Next time hopefully under better circumstances."
Johanna Mitchell	It's a good thing that Alex provides the explanation of Parnus! "The first google result for the word Parnus," Johanna calls casually from the living room with a little grin, "was something as an insult. Mostly it wanted to correct me into the spelling of Parnas, though." She lowers the phone into her lap and finally removes her thumb from her lip after giving it a light left-to-right graze with her fingerpad. "Not that I'm an anthropologist or anything of the sort, but that I imagine that says something about the influence of the guy?"     Held between her thighs, her phone screen idly goes to a black state again and she allows herself to imagine the 'mean' version of cupid. And really, it doesn't work. It's not quite Johanna's fault, she was doomed to begin with given the vaguery of the prompt. "So like, BDSM cupid, or...?"     She need not wait long an explanation though. There's the vague squeal of a child and that's enough to get Johanna on her feet, to the point that the recliner rocks loudly into the floor (much to the irritation of the neighbors beneath). The phone she'd been holding seconds lays on the floor beneath the coffee table.     Ares comes out with the small demon-bat-child thing in tow.     "What in the fuck??"     Johanna isn't aware of when her back found the wall. Or that her hand has climbed and clamped to her mouth. Dark, coal-like eyes pin, glue, adhere firmly to the squealing form. And while the movement of her hand had been automatic, it quickly becomes an intentional thing, as though she were cramming back something into the back of her throat when Ares makes his oh-so-casual goodbye.     "It... was nice to meet you," muffles out eventually from between her fingers, when she's able to peel her eyes off Parnus and give John Aaron at least a semi-direct gaze. "Do you need me to get... Here, let me--I'll get the door for you," and with all the grace of a stick-figure nailed together with plywood and nails, Johanna moves around the edge of the room to get to the door, to pry it wiiiiiide open for the God of War, and... the uninvited guest.     It's only after John Aaron is out in the hallway that the God will probably hear Johanna hissing, the anxiety inherent, and in such a stressed way that it's perfectly plausible to picture her bewildered expression, "What was that doing in the /bathroom/?!"
Alexander Aaron	The door slams shut, out in the hall there is the shrieking and screaming of a tiny Olympian monstrosity that is rather displeased to be held and controlled by the God of War. Yet after a few moments there's the sound of footsteps down the stairs, the screaming retreating along with the clomp-clomp of those heavy boots. Which, ultimately, leaves Alexander and Johanna there until silence returns.     Then Alexander turns his head to look at her and tells her simply, "I /told/ you my family was weird." As if that explained it all.