"...You were blind to many things, but never that." As angry as she is, she won't deny the truth. "Still, you cannot say you haven't always held Amaurot upon a pedestal."

The first inkling of his age finally slips out and Hemera is not sure what to make of it. It is... overwhelming to think of and many, many more centuries than she had expected. In the end it only serves to anger her further. She seethes with it, body practically quivering from the effort of reining it all in.

For all that Hades can infuriate her like none other, he also has always understood.

She surges forward, lunging at the pompous lapels of his coat with her hands; clenches the fabric between her fingertips and yanks him downward with such force she's liable to break his nose on her face as she presses her lips to his.