“Because Zeus-y and I want you to, and Zeus-y is omnipotent,” she simpers.

I can’t resist; I snort and smirk at my definitely-not-omnipotent-actually-kind-of-stupid brother as he sidles up and puts his arm around Demeter.

Persephone hides a grin. “Oh, yes, I’m sure he is, Mother, but I choose to stay here all the same, thanks.”

“Oh,” she says, looking deflated.

“Well, thanks for coming by, we look forward to seeing your next visit,” I say, my voice as chock-full of fake sugar as Splenda.

She turns as red as the pomegranate in the bush, then balls her fists and marches away.

“She’ll be back,” says Zeus unhelpfully. “She never gives up.” He stares at the protruding area of her retreating form admiringly, then follows her out.

“Did my mother just call him Zeus-y?” Persephone says faintly.