How to<i>what</i>? Put a number where? He glanced at the rotary phone he'd answered next to his bed, the number for it written on a small paper card on the front, which was tucked into a shallow plastic visor. Was that what she meant? "My lady, of course I know how to put numbers in the phone. Give me some credit." Her tone made his heart ache. Things had rarely been quiet on Olympus, he and Hera even more rarely in agreement, but when they were she had always been so warm to him, even as she thought she sounded regal and dignified. The memory made him smile at his steak, which, thankfully, did not smile back.<br/><br/>"It never fails to surprise me how perceptive they can be. I had a young man approach me some forty years ago now, clutching a photograph and stammering how it could be possible. When I finally coaxed him to show me the picture it was of myself and his grandfather, a man I helped to study the pattern of storms and rainfall to help with some project or another, I forget the details. I admit, I did tell him that the world was full of mysteries, and that this would have to be one of them. This world must have some wonder left to it, seems to me." He cleared his throat as he realized he'd gotten off track, and he cast about for something to write on. The tray of food was set aside as he stood and walked toward the hotel's table, where a small pad of paper and pen sat, but he came up several feet short as the cord yanked taut and the body of the phone crashed to the floor. "<i>Vlastíste!</i>One moment, Hera, if you will..."<br/><br/>He set the receiver down and hurried to pick up the pad and pen, longing for the servants he had once enjoyed as king, yet another 'something' he had taken for granted. He paused to write the name down before it faded from his memory, scowling at the paper. "Ey... des... ma... twelve... thirty... mm." He picked up the receiver again and moved to lift the phone's body back up onto the nightstand, but the sound of voices on her side of the line stopped him in his tracks.<br/><br/>Eri. Thyia. His daughters. He had to cover his mouth for a moment and wound up kneeling where he'd been standing. The sound of them--so near and yet so far--brought back memories he had long repressed, memories of holding them as babes, of seeing them take their first steps, speak their first words. Eris had always been a firebrand, his Eri, his chaos, and her sister Eileithyia seemed almost made to balance that energy. He had loved them both desperately, and the day they had left with their mother had put scars on his heart that never hurt until now.<br/><br/>Zeus took a deep breath and closed his eyes, fighting the burning within them. He cleared his throat carefully and picked up the notepad again, glancing over the words he'd scribbled down. "<i>Έδεσμα. </i>I'll be there at 12:30 sharp. Don't... don't worry about the owners too much, my dear, your beauty has always been timeless and the envy of even Aphrodite herself. I... forgive me for the change of tact, but... was that Eris and Eileithyia just now?"