Shinobi. Assassin. The words meant little difference to him. Instead, he just counted his small blessings. There was some relief, he realized, that she hadn't recognized him as Solus zos Galvus. Perhaps she was from a different time period, one before the empire of Garlemald? That would explain it well enough. At least, up until she had mentioned Hien. Of Doma. Ah. Then she was either distracted, or a bit of a buffoon. He decided that he would go with a mixture of both. Perhaps a confrontation at least, could be avoided. He'd rather not have it get back to Cassandra that he'd gone and gotten into a fight in Provo where Alex could hear of it, and promptly lose his mind, if Cassandra's recounting of his reaction to his idiotic guild getting demolished was anything to go by.

But the wounded woman's words caused him to quirk a brow. Anymore? Now, that was quite the qualifying word, wasn't it? Just what had she been through in the past? She was more concerned about her daughter. He could respect that. They both told him off, and he shrugged. What did their opinions mean to him? Still, it wouldn't do to leave some small child to lose her mother. Cassandra was rubbing off on him, he felt. He rolled his eyes, biting back a sigh. Looping his free arm behind his back as they walked away from him, he simply snapped his fingers, and the aether coalesced around and within the injured woman. Full Cure, he'd heard it termed before. A rather deceptive name, if he was being honest. Oh, it'd take her time to regain her footing, she wouldn't be back to her old self immediately. But it would be enough to save her life. The wounds could be mended, but only time alone could return the strength lost. Of course, such a spell for most people would have been draining, exhausting. But for him, he barely felt it.

He contemplated whether this was the moment to simply vanish in a black portal and be done with it. But he had a feeling outing himself as an Ascian would probably draw more attention than simply being Garlean. Or Solus. At least he had plausible deniability for the magic. And frankly, he did not have the energy or patience to deal with either, nor did he have the energy to go back and get more groceries if these were to be tarnished.

He wasn't sure if Hythlodaeus was making fun or not. His brow furrowed for it. He knew he wasn't the best at this, but at the very least, his friend could put in the effort to not seem so surprised. It took Hades a moment before he unfurrowed, returning to a calmer expression. He cursed himself at how easily he fell back into old habits on instinct. Especially when right now was not the time for them. So he kept himself in check, he would be good. He just wasn't sure what to do, and a moment of awkward silence ensued. "You would do the same for me were our positions reversed, would you not?" It was a delicate navigation. He couldn't simply say yes, though he wasn't sure if that would have been the right answer as well. Once again he wished the others were here, they could handle this so much better than he, but they weren't. Well, Atlas was, but as he was now, he'd manage an even worse job than Hades.

Oh yes, things had been reaching his ears. He half considered stepping in before Alexander did something he couldn't get himself out of. But that had been thrown to the wayside when, with no warning, he'd been touched, and then embraced by the bard. He flinched on instinct. It wasn't Hythlodaeus. Truly, it wasn't him. Hades just was very, very, very choosy about who could touch him. Atlas had long discovered the best way around this was to just grab him before Hades could really respond, and he wondered if Hythlodaeus was taking a cue from their mutual friend. Even Persephone had to invest no small amount of time to get past that barrier. He was always a bit ornery. And it took no small amount of willpower not to struggle and try to get out, and that was in no way related to the man doing the embracing.

Still, after the initial moment of shock subsided, Hades stiffly, awkwardly, and slowly returned the embrace, even putting a few pats on Hythlodaeus's back for good measure. This was wildly, completely, totally out of his comfort zone. Oh, as the Emperor he had played the part, but it had always been a part. This was not Solus zos Galvus, or any of the myriad masks, but himself, and it was harder not to act like himself when in that skin. But the questions, it gave him something to focus on, and that was greatly appreciated right now. "You're on a different star. The indigenous population calls it Zephon. No one really knows why we've been pulled here." But he would love to know. So very much, because with that knowledge came hope. Hope for more reunions like this.

Alex was in the area. That much was clear. For what, he didn't know, and he had no intention of finding out. Meddling with Alex was much like meddling with his predecessor, it brought nothing but trouble. Cassandra had been missing, and that caused Hades some issues as well. What in the world was going on with those two? Nevermind that he was swamped with finding matches. He'd seen an uptick in business as the year drew closer to Winter. And that meant having to go over profiles he had on hand, scribbling recommendations, the like. And as it was something that he preferred to do himself, that meant he was often up quite late. That in itself was nothing new. The sight of dark bags under his eyes and creases in his brow were always a common sight when it came to the office of Emet-Selch, both before and after the Sundering. But that focus left him open in some ways, especially as a phantom decided to make himself known.

Of course, when Hades was caught in working on something, and his concentration went elsewhere, instinct had a tendency to take over. And for Hades, instinct regarding Hythlodaeus was to begin verbally eviscerating him for having his usual timing. There was an exasperated snarl, all too familiar, twelve thousand years old, from the other side of the door as he looked down at his pen. Without even thinking, his response was already being formed. "Of course it's when I have work to do that your impeccable timing deigns to--" As his brain finally caught up, and the voice registered. The writing stopped as it processed the words. The owner. "Deigns to..." He trailed off, his voice shaking, his hands trembling as he placed the pen down. Please. Please. Please let this be real. Don't let my dreams place another illusion in front of me, only to take it away. His most fervent wish had always been to have everyone reunited, with one night where they didn't say farewell.

This could wait, he decided, as he quietly shuffled his papers together neatly, placed them in a well organized pile. "... Please do." He said softly, lacing his fingers together. The aether told him who was behind the door, but there was a part of him that simply wouldn't believe it otherwise. His mind had played too many tricks, pulled the rug from under him too many times. It had become dangerous to hope, better to shove it away and continue the eternal slog to see the Great Work done. But he wouldn't deny the hammering of his heart, the lump in his throat, that small burning fire that he had made sure to smother away in the pursuit of that ever distant utopia. But his knuckles tightened all the same.

That was fair, and it gave him more insight into the Tonberry sitting in front of him. One who valued function over form. As long as it got the job done, what it looked like was entirely irrelevant. "A logical answer. For many, however, there is a sense of disappointment; when something interests them so, they often hope for the fantastic, and can be let down by the mundane." There was that drive to always wish to see more. To be able to apply just a dab of fantasy to make things just a little more exciting. Or perhaps it was simply a subconscious wish for the old. Many considered what was commonplace in his world to be on the level of gods. Some had even made such comments to him. In his world, perhaps it was simply a subconscious memory floating to the surface. It'd also explain why this Tonberry, not from his world, would simply move past such things.

"Some influences remain when we come to this world, perhaps. Perhaps through random chance, or our dear puppetmaster deigns to allow us to survive." Things were inconsistent. Why did some things fail, where others succeeded? He could no longer feel Zodiark's pull, and for that, he was to an extent, grateful. While the tempering didn't seem to do much to his personality, there was some measure of satisfaction in knowing that one's mind was entirely their own. There was another sip. Something to wile away the time as he glanced back outside, watching as the foot traffic slowed and slowed. "I've always wondered who, or what, pulls the strings in this world. There's too much at work that I find it difficult to believe it's random chance. Others have their connections severed, often when it's a boon." He himself had noted it. He was far weaker than he should be. Oh, he still stood far above the many of this world, confident that there was no one who could truly threaten him, but even he had diminished. "Yet you, who needs that connection to survive, have it. Most peculiar."

But, well, the Tonberry had made his thoughts on the matter clear. "Forgive me, I ramble on a topic that you have no interest in." Rather, the Tonberry had some other interests, which entirely made sense. He likely did with to know what had become of his own kind, specifically why Hades had not sought them out. Though it was a question that could be perhaps applied to any from his world. "But, no, I have not. In my world, most Tonberries are afflicted with something called the Rancor. A thirst for blood and vengeance that has consumes them. As Tonberries do not exist naturally in my world, I did not consider the possibility that they could independently rise on another star." That pesky Green Death, again. Perhaps it was for the best that this Tonberry did not know of Etheirys.

Hades closed his eyes for a moment. Opening them again. "Now that you're aware of them, do you plan to seek them out?" A simple question. He wondered what would become of such a meeting.