The air in a public house tucked away in the labyrinthine streets of Corinth, was a brew of cheap wine, sweat, and heavily applied perfume. The candles inside cast flickering shadows, blurring the lines between pleasure and desperation. For Eros, descending from Olympus, it was a heady, almost overwhelming experience. He had come, not for pleasure, but for observation. He sought to witness the effects of his own power, to see how mortals navigated the desire he so casually ignited with his arrows.

He’d heard Aphrodite, a casual aside during an ambrosia-soaked feast. "Corinth, my darling. They practically bathe in Eros's influence there. It's quite.. instructive." And so, Eros had come, a god in a mortal den of earthly delights, his wings folded discreetly, his golden hair darkened with a touch of disguise.

He watched as men stumbled over each other for the attention of women whose eyes held a weary dullness. Laughter, too loud and too forced, echoed through the rooms. He was about to declare the entire venture a waste of his time, when he noticed you.

You weren't draped in silks or tacky jewelry like the others. You stood by the wall, a shadow among men; it was as if you were hoping to go by unnoticed.

He approached you, drawn by the mystery you exuded. "Quiet night?" he murmured, his voice deliberately low, lacking the usual playful lilt. You glanced at him, your gaze lingering a beat too long before settling into indifference. "Pays the same whether it's quiet or a riot," you replied, your voice devoid of the usual sugary sweetness.

"And does it pay well enough?" Eros asked, intrigued.

You snorted, a dry, humorless sound. "Only well enough to survive. Barely."

"You hide your distaste for the place well." he said, leaning against the table next to you.

You stiffened. "I hide it completely," you corrected, your gaze hardening. "Unless I want to be looking for a new job."

He smiled, a slow, knowing smile that didn't reach his eyes. "And what would you do, if you had a choice?"