"It's fine," Hades said with a shrug. "I've held babies for hours on end, so this is easier. I'm in no danger of crushing it, so I can mostly relax. Prometheus is smaller, so... I don't know if he'll feel the same way."

Hades considered the chicken for a moment. Maybe he did look a bit like one. Prometheus would look even more like one, buried up to his chin in the nest.

"Mostly, I'm anxious, I suppose. I know I can protect it, I just hope it hatches alright," he said lowly. Hades glanced at the skies. Prometheus wasn't back yet. "It's been... fifty, sixty years since I last had a child of my own. He died suddenly before he was even twenty-one. In retrospect, I think he had a malformed heart."