It sort of defeated the purpose of flying to their adventure, but Prometheus couldn't deny that he'd start to lose altitude in a few miles, and probably risk dropping into the ocean. He could swim, and float very well, but... probably best not to chance it.

So, with a grunt, he gently landed on Hades's back, flopping on his belly and opening his jaws to let a few steamy plumes escape - a slower way of venting heat, but it was better than spitting out a plasma several thousand feet in the sky. He might hit a flock of migrating birds by accident if it traveled far.

"Ugh, sorry," he mumbled guiltily, "I'm so unfit..."