God of the People.

[ares_dot_com]

*another bottle flips and crashes into the acreage of empties behind the couch, Ares already reaching into the case for a new beer. Left leg extended along the divan, right slung over the edge, shirtless and disheveled from days without rest, War flickers undeviating eyes over the televisions, gauging his next influencing based on the reactions of

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[dite_dot_com]

amid a myriad of sparkles, Aphrodite appeared behind the sofa, ducking out of the way just in time to miss getting beaned in the head with a flying bottle. Nose scrunching in distaste, hands went to hips, and she walked around to face him, taking in the general appearance. This... wasn't right.

Ares... Get up. We're going out.

flicking her fingers, the bank of monitors and TV feeds powered off, and shoulders rolled back, expression on her face offering no room for argument

You look a mess.

[ares_dot_com]

*arm advancing his opened hand toward the condition of his butchered programs, he slants his brows endearingly, imbued lips pouting severely*

Dite! C'mon... Aw.. Just.. Aw.

[dite_dot_com]

Ares... baby.

drawing the words into a purr, her chin dipped as she looked at him and she leaned to kiss his cheek before realizing how scruffy he was looking.

C'mon. get up. we're going to have fun. I promise you you can play with your toys when we get back...

smiling brightly nice work on that fragging incident, by the way... slowly but surely, you're giving it drama.

Now, up, up... we don't want to be late.

[ares_dot_com]

*nuzzling her, his wiry cheek scrapping against her celestially soft one in a surely uncomfortable rasp*

You noticed..

*his beaming was prominent at the recognition, encouraged only through her compliment to literally desquamate his muscled body from the mold he'd made in the davenport's plush cushions. Beer still clutched in his hand, both arms ascend above his slatternly haired head, stretching his ribcage with a sluggish grunt*

Alright, I'm ready. Where are we going?

[dite_dot_com]

her smile shone... she knew she'd gotten way with it, if he wasn't going to cause a scene. curling in, her head lifted to press into the light kiss he bestowed.

No pretzels... champagne, though I'm sure a whiskey might be findable. The tickets are already purchased...and in your coat pocket. I knew you'd wnt to join me tonight. You'll like it... It's about the Peloponnesian war.

[ares_dot_com]

Champagne? Ugh..

*fingered into the second pocket, retrieving the vouchers of the grand admittance, slotting them between middle and index finger. The silver flask in his jacket's interior became weighted as it was supplied with something more palatable than fizzling water.

Violins of practiced instrumentalists in the lobby distracted his attention from her briefly, the one man in particular striking a maliciously incorrect note... Then another one. Ares broadened his grin as the sweat began to accumulate on the musician's brow. Yet another shriek of the horse hairs*

Mm.. You'd best have obtained us a booth this time..

[dite_dot_com]

What, you think after all this time I've not learned my lesson, and would make the bourgeoisie suffer with you as an audience mate? Of course it's a booth...But love...

her smile teased as she turned, fingernails lightly capturing his chin as she turned his gaze down towards her.

booth or not, you still have to actually watch it. There might be a quiz later.

nose scrunching in a grin, she leaned up to kiss his cheek, basking in the attemptedly masked attention they drew.

Now isn't this better then beer and TV?

[ares_dot_com]

Examination? Right.. While unclothed over a desk, perhaps.

*lightly released his maw from her grip with a pulpy smile, not bothering to glance behind him at the turned heads toward his minstrel's catastrophe, the crowd around him murmuring at his continued faltering. Laughs outright and entwines his arm around her waist, leading her toward the turnstile the ticket indicated. Climbing a few carpeted stairs, the sound of Aphrodite's heels ringing in his mind while he hands over the ballots to a succinctly dressed usher. The chaperon glances at the ticket, "This way, please." Leading them to their private, ornamented carrel, he opens the door and smiles, arm motioning invitingly toward the small open ended chamber*

[ares_dot_com]

Thoroughly. There are not words.

*revolving his gaze back to his watch, the pictures of mayhem, surrender and pomposity soothing to taxed attentions. Fangs again flourishing in a yawn, brow beveled before executing it entirely, glancing to her to reassure she's not detected his diversion*

[dite_dot_com]

Mm.

nodding lightly, her eyes swept forward. She remained relaxed, though her face held that look...subtle amusement mixed with unerring superiority, knowledgeable in the fact that she had guilt trip potential occurring

Considering they just got beaten down by their wives, I'd have to concur...

patronizingly, she patted his thigh I suppose this isn't your favourite war to remember... and it could be worse. I could be a football widow.

[ares_dot_com]

*recalcitrantly he unfastened his electrical distraction and handed it to her, relinquishing his attempts to out bluff her. Both arms gathered across his chest, the material of his jacket tugged tight around his shoulders and back, he makes a valiant endeavor to find something engrossing amongst the thespians*

[dite_dot_com]

Oooh.... does this thing get soap operas?

she examined it a moment, before offering it back to him, content to let him play I won on stage...nodding to the play that was reaching it's climax, men with obvious erections pleading with their wives as a naked girl was pulled onto the stage so you can win here. loosening the grip his arms had on his chest, she looped an arm around his once more