The robes remind Hades too much of the past, of a time when he thought his life would turn out differently. Now his life is the corporation of the Underworld he runs, and he's glad for that life, but the suit is pushing his luck here and he knows it.

And he likes it.

He just knows he's not facing this person as the old form and not as the deadly and strong God he is.

Following her into the kitchen, he nods at the offer of the a drink, staying quiet though and listening intently.

He looks around the room, considering this place and what she's telling him about herself, and this place. "I'm sorry for your loss, though it sounds as if you did what you were destined to do. Sometimes prophecies tell a truth, but not the whole one."

He's seen it time and again. In his own life. In the lives of others.

"So who is this group of pretenders to your story?"