Staring out at the two self-proclaimed instruments of the gods, Capros couldn't help but feel an unease within him. It was not, however, the unease of fear. He was not afraid at the apparent dawning of violence, to the contrary he felt a great chafing at the invisible chain that kept him from joining into it. The boar trampled what was about him for the love of it, did he not?<br/><br/>"Are you sure the docksmaster is going to answer to Poseidon's plaything? She seems focused on the Dionysian." Capros mumbled this into the wind Artemis spoke through, hoping for some kind of blessing to proceed forward. He did not get one. So he pushed himself off of the wall he had leaned against and walked toward the impending fray. He hadn't been told not to get a better look, anyway.<br/><br/>"Battles to the death mean a lot more when one of the participants can actually die." Capros didn't want to show his hand - but he totally wanted to show his hand. The indirect, shadowy hunting that Artemis led him towards ill suited the militiaman. Anyway all he needed was the excuse to unleash his inner self, what was the point of discretion? These two might have been big on the posturing but at least both of them spoke directly. "Or at least, can stay dead." He smiled widely at the both of them, a hand on the handle of his hatchet just in case he could get in on the impending bloodbath. "Maybe it's just my problem. But it seems a little... Convenient, that we'd all end up here at the same time."