The newest item added to the House order was so small and innocuous not one shade questioned it and soon enough a small glass bottle of pure rosemary oil was sitting on Hades' desk. It was neatly tucked in to the side of his scroll with his pens and ink, doubtless ready to unleash a comedy of errors on a more foolish man. Hades pocketed it without a word and resumed an endless Hell that could only be described as clerical.

In his bedroom when he was sure to be alone, knowing Persephone would tend to her garden for hours more, enthused now that a flowering bulb had appeared, proving her right that even in this smothering darkness she could bring beautiful life into this world. He recalled her hands gently cradling the infant leaves and stalks... and all too quickly he felt the phantom brush of her fingers brushing through his beard. It was the first time she'd voluntarily touched him - carding through his thick hair delicately to find his chin. Delicate as to not hurt him, feeling how thick it was, neither the two of them speaking, lost in this new ritual of her choosing.

He wants her to do it again. Wants her this time to feel it silky and sensuous, to allow her to remind him that the desire in him has only grown dormant, that maybe with her guidance the winter chill in his body can melt away.

He unstoppers the bottle and grooms his beard with a severity that implies he will not allow one strand of hair to betray him, not the teeth of his comb, nor his large fingers who have mastered the art of holding tiny pens. The scent is warming, and trapped in his beard, he knows it will linger in his sinuses all night.

Taunting him with warmth he could only dream to feel.

Pitiful.

Hades sits in his master bedroom and waits for Persephone to come inside.