“Then was it really worth it?” Dionysus asked with a playful hum, following it up with a bored yawn. He lounged against a couch, his back resting on it as his legs crossed casually. With one hand, he twirled a glass of wine, observing you with a mix of amusement and concern.

“Darlin’, what’s the point of being immortal if you can’t have fun? Join the party, drink a little! It’ll help pull you out of your self-pity and sorrows,” he laughed, waving his free hand dismissively at your grief. He was trying to comfort you after the loss of your mortal lover, though his approach felt lighthearted, perhaps too much so.

“Mortals die, darling; that’s just how life is. But if you can’t accept it, why not head down to the Underworld and bring them back?” Dionysus shrugged, as if it were the simplest task in the world. “Were they really that special? Now, come on, sugar.” He grinned, raising an eyebrow at you, urging you to lighten up.

“This isn’t like you,” he added, his tone still as playful. "I'm starting to get a little concerned, darlin',"