Kane's mouth opened and closed soundlessly, like a fish gasping for air.
"Gods?" he finally managed. "What do you mean, gods?"
Cyrus's expression immediately shuttered again. "I've already said enough."
"No, absolutely not." Kane shot to his feet, blocking Cyrus's path to the bedroom.
"You can't just drop something like that and walk away."
"I can and I will."
"Gods, Cyrus? What gods? Are we talking actual deities or—"
"The conversation is over." Cyrus stepped around Kane, but Kane darted in front of him again.
"I will follow you around this penthouse all night asking questions if I have to." Kane's amber eyes flashed with determination.
"I'll narrate everything you do with god-related puns. 'Oh look, Cyrus is brushing his teeth—I guess that's a divine ritual now.'"
Cyrus pinched the bridge of his nose. "You wouldn't."
"'And now he's putting on pajamas. Holy garments for our resident deity expert.'" Kane's voice took on an insufferably cheerful tone.
