Prometheus almost resembled a skittish deer with how he very slowly stepped forwards and closed the door behind him, his feet light and soundless as he gravitated towards Hades's. He was still nervous, but something in him settled at the 'I'm not going to make you'. Not that, he expected Hades to force him to go along with it, but, sometimes the verbal assurance was nice.

He already had a good idea what Hades had 'Created' anyways. All this talk of making babies and the sultry edge to Hades's soul was kind of a big giveaway.

If this was before the Doom, Prometheus probably would've made a lewd remark, maybe playfully felt up Hades's firm, strong legs - kissed him, definitely. Instead, Prometheus hesitated, stopping just before Hades as his gaze swept over Hades's face and down to his groin very pointedly.

"Let me guess," he said, trying to ignore how his pulse was spiking. From nerves? Anticipation? Cautious arousal? He wasn't sure yet, it felt like it could tip in either direction at any moment, "You've Created... a cunt."