He shook his head. “No time, and we can’t be weighed down by anything extra. You can barely carry all of that hair, let alone anything else.”
I spluttered. “Absolutely not true. I’m very fit.”
I wasn’t even sure why I was trying to make this a thing. I wasn't fit. I’d never been fit. I only exercised when forced to—when my jeans didn’t fit, mostly.
Luckily, I’d clipped on my Coach fanny pack with passport and wallet when I’d pulled on my shorts. Cronus of course didn’t need that because he could daze the check-in desk and they wouldthinkhe had a passport. He had enough power for that apparently.
When we entered the dark room, I wondered how Cronus was going to find the exit, but he must have scented the fresh air or something, because he went straight for the panel next to her huge workbench, pushing at a few sections before finding the one that opened to the outside. “Stay close,” he said softly, releasing me so that he could grip his weapon with both hands. “I can fight any of them one on one, even with my powers weakened. But if they kill you, we will both probably die because we are bound.”
#FML
“I’ll be right on your ass,” I promised him. Not like I had any choice, but even if I did, I would still be sticking with him. Better the god you knew, especially when he’d given up trying to kill you.
For now.
