[A chthonic god finds one (1) tent on the surface to temporarily call his own, and an Olympian breezes right in like she owns the place. Dang. Or: Thanatos may not be invited to those fancy functions on Mount Olympus, but he, too, is a god; of course he recognizes Aphrodite from the many tales he's heard throughout the years when he walks back into his makeshift shelter, and of course he freezes, not so much put off by her, ah, state as he is the fact that she's here. By choice? Or was she, too, dragged here...
Plus Thanatos is in a state all of his own. His chiton is hanging in the corner, you see, drying after his plunge into the ocean, while his collar, his pauldron, his belt—they're all piled atop the ratty-looking mattress, and is surely what she's poking through. So that's... cool. It's great to represent the upper management of the Underworld while wearing pants and nothing else, but Thanatos is Nyx's son through and through; he's coolly calm as he steps into the tent, respectfully inclining his head to the greater goddess. No need to cause problems.]
Lady Aphrodite. [Ma'am.] This is an unexpected honor, though I can't claim this... hovel as my own.
[So stiff! So formal! I hope she roasts the shit out of his hair.]
a!
Plus Thanatos is in a state all of his own. His chiton is hanging in the corner, you see, drying after his plunge into the ocean, while his collar, his pauldron, his belt—they're all piled atop the ratty-looking mattress, and is surely what she's poking through. So that's... cool. It's great to represent the upper management of the Underworld while wearing pants and nothing else, but Thanatos is Nyx's son through and through; he's coolly calm as he steps into the tent, respectfully inclining his head to the greater goddess. No need to cause problems.]
Lady Aphrodite. [Ma'am.] This is an unexpected honor, though I can't claim this... hovel as my own.
[So stiff! So formal! I hope she roasts the shit out of his hair.]