“It was incredibly smart of you to hire me to guide you through the furnace.”

“Yes it was, Terrence.” The eyeroll Aphrodite aimed away from him was still audible in her voice, though her guide didn’t seem to notice.

“I was the first courser to ever navigate the geyser field, did you know that?”

Stars above, he practically pranced as he said it. Aphrodite couldn’t help the second roll of her eyes. “Yes, I did know that, Terrence. You already mentioned it.”

“Oh, have I?” He asked airily, although he didn’t sound the least bit apologetic.

“Yes,” the heraldic repeated. “Four times so far.”

“Only four?” The braggart half-turned to shine a brilliant, sparkling smile on her. She ignored it. “Anyway, it shouldn’t be —”

“HEY COURSER.”

The pair of them paused, ears flicking back, as they turned to spot — ugh.

“Imps,” Aphrodite said. Her lip curled up in disgust, as if she’d smelled something particularly offensive. “Ugh.”

“HAHAHAHA, HEY COURSER!!”

“HEEEYYYYY COURSER!!!”

A small flock of the awful, disproportionately-shaped winged creatures fluttered around them, and began tugging at ears, tails, anything they could grab. “HEEYYYY WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE A WET ROCK?”

“Excuse me??”

Aphrodite inhaled sharply, ignoring Terrence’s indignant squawk of protest at the terrible insult, and ignored, too, the imp tugging at her tail — until it flew low enough to tug at the feathering on one leg.

It was a mistake hopefully the thing would learn from, as she aimed a swift, solid kick at it with her cloven hoof.