"Fine by me," remarked Isaev, strolling away down the lanes.

He tossed his hair out of his eyes, looking back at Aryol.

"I'll try not to swallow too many of your siblings," he drawled, coolly.

"I'm more of an Apollo than a Cronos, anyway."

Too bad there was no Grecian analogue for the kind of man who fucked his father's lover.

Andrei snorted and struck his boot heel on the concrete.

It would probably be wasted anyway.

His eyes narrowed.

"Lets go spill some brethren."