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“That doesn’t make sense. Rock is clearly stronger.”
Persephone shrugged.“Why is an ace a wild card?”
“Because it’s the rules.”
“Well, it’s a rule that paper covers rock,” she said.
Hades smiled at her retort. He had smiled more in the last hour than he had in his lifetime.
“Ready?” she asked, lifting her hand, and forming a fist. Hades mimicked her movements, and she giggled. Clearly, this was amusing for her, and he groaned internally. The things he did for her already.
“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” She spoke the words with fervor. She was definitely having fun, and for that, Hades was glad.
“Yes!” she shrieked, arms flying into the air.“Rock beats scissors!”
Hades frowned.“Damn. I thought you’d choose paper.”
“Why?”
“Because you just sang paper’s praises!” he explained.
She giggled some more.“Only because you asked why paper covers rock. This isn’t poker, Hades. It’s not about deception.”
“Isn’t it?” he disagreed. He was certain if he played this game long enough, he would learn her tendency to choose one of the three options over the others. It was an algorithm, and most people had a pattern, even if they did not realize it.
Silence stretched between them for a moment, Persephone’s earlier excitement subsiding. The atmosphere was changing, and Hades did not like it. He wanted to recapture their earlier reverie, not explore darker secrets.
Suddenly, he wondered if he could distract her, close the distance between them and press his lips to hers, but she looked away, took a breath, and asked,“You said you had successes before with your contracts. Tell me about them.”
Hades pinched his lips together before retreating to the bar across the room to pour himself a drink. The alcohol would help him loosen up and hopefully prevent him from saying something he regretted.
I wanted a chance to explain, he reminded himself.
He took a seat on his black leather sofa before answering.
“What is there to tell? I have offered many mortals the same contract over the years. In exchange for money, fame, love, they must give up their vice. Some mortals are stronger than others and conquer their habit.”
It was a little more complicated than that, and as he spoke, he could feel the threads that covered his skin burn from every failed bargain he had made with the Fates.
“Conquering a disease is not about strength, Hades,” she said as she sat opposite to him, folding her leg beneath her.
“No one said anything about disease.”
“Addiction is a disease,” she said.“It cannot be cured. It must be managed.”
“It is managed,” he argued.
He managed it by holding mortals to their agreements, reminding them of what they would lose if they failed—their life.
“How? With more contracts?”
“That is another question,” he snapped, but she seemed unfazed and lifted her hands, signaling she was ready for another round. Hades sat his drink aside and mirrored her stance. When she landed on rock and he scissors, she demanded,“How, Hades?”
“I do not ask them to give everything up at once. It is a slow process.”
He did not want to admit that he had given no way for mortals to manage their addictions. It was up to them to find ways to come clean. When he did not elaborate, they played another round.
This time, to Hades’ relief, he won.“What would you do?” he asked, because he was curious, and he had no answers.
