It’s remarkable, the way she can hold her hand out to an unmoving sheep that makes him look like the awkward one.

“My apologies, I’ve had to be on highest alert to keep from getting killed all this day.” Even now, his pulse quickens and his body prepares to leap, on instinct, seeing her hand move closer. Guilt tugs at him, its shadow crossing his face. “It will take me a little time to warm to the idea.”

This is the second first impression she has given him. She first appeared as a pilgrim of the Hermetics, so alight with wonder that she would beg questions of Hades before concerning herself with her shades’ fate. Now she appears as a regal creature out of timeless myth, gracious and perilous in her bearing. It is a little unfair that he knows the both of her. He can’t stop from wondering where her heart lies between the two.

“Because you’re right; this will only work if we trust each other. Beyond right now, I have to trust that you won’t kill me, you have to trust I’m not fooling you for my own ends. And that has to start somewhere.” It may have already started. She has extended her hand. His thumb remains on the button. "It's an oath, yes? Or maybe something written in [i]you[/i]?" 

She gives a slight dip of her head. No more need be said about it.

"I thought it might be. You don't sound like someone who's stuck and despairing. You’ve given this quite a bit of thought." It might’ve been easier if she was simply trapped in her own head. Some problems can be solved with a nice chat over a cup of tea. Had he really thought this one would be so easy? Or was that just a desperate prayer for a bit of good news?

He frowns, and takes his own time to think. She is gracious enough to give it to him. “If it were only me...I've been in some fights before, and what happens there is the realm of Mars. Artemis is a much different matter. Clear, direct, and laid out. A name is signed, and there must be blood. I've never had a hand in a hunt before. It won't be my hand on the knife, but it will be my hand that sets it loose, and my heart that must live with the consequences. Just as it would have to live with you trapped in that coffin." 

Either may prove too much for him to bear. She knows his story. She knows the price of breaking here. No more need be said about it.

“Knowing all that,” his free hand rises above the tabletop. Just a smidge. His fingers cannot decide whether to curl open or pull back. “Is this what you would ask of me?”

[Rolling to Speak Softly: 4 + 4 + 3 = 11. Can Dolce trust her with his heart? He also Forges a Bond with her.]