"Do I feel guilty?" Odysseus asked, bringing a hand to his chin. "Aye, I believe I do. My wife wasted her best years awaiting an unfaithful man, and I couldn't even be honest with her about the extent of my indiscretions until after death. And even now some part of me still wants to answer the sirens' call. Perhaps I was not built for monogamy. I don't know. I did love my wife, and I did always keep her in my heart, but I simply..."

He sighed, his tone quiet. Twenty years he spent away from his ex-wife, half of them in the Trojan war and the other half trying to return. The many tales of his wit and brilliance, while not unfounded, tended to gloss over the fact Penelope had remained faithful and he, well... Sufficed to say that his bed had not been empty.

"I'm not proud of my actions, but neither can I deny them," he finally said. "And my wife was graceful when finally she did part ways with me in death, but I will never forget the look of utter heartbreak in her eyes."

Now a shade in service of the war against Chronos, Odysseus found himself having a much easier time managing his impulses. His new station afforded him the luxury of reflection and contemplation, and with it, an awareness of the life he'd lived and the regrets he'd accumulated. He'd also found acceptance among the more godly beings for his dalliances, although this wasn't necessarily comforting; gods most often took their passions wherever they pleased, and held little regard for mortal monogamy.

But he was not a god, and the guilt still weighed heavy on him. Even if the split from his wife had been amicable, the shadow of his misdeeds loomed over his shoulders. It was fitting that his illegitimate son with Circe had been the one to end him.

A strained smile crossed his lips, and he closed his eyes. "But surely you did not come to the taverna to hear about my troubles, appreciative though I am for your listening ear. Please, tell me about yourself. What brings you to the Crossroads this...evening? I think? Hard to tell."