He thought about it, actually scrunching his brow, shifting to put the mane comb away, and at the same time bring himself closer to Apollo, imagining the other was giving off a very lovely smell. Above them, a pixie tittered to itself and dropped more dust on them - a pixie bucket load.

"I will say I am in my thirties," he admitted at last, not wanting to give to much away, some of his peacock attitudes rising on a whim.