A/N: Another drabble :)

I don´t own Percy Jackson or The Heroes of Olympus

If someone believed me
They would be
As in love with you as I am

-Angels,The XX

They exit the bar together, walking the short distance to the old terrace that overlooks the city and leaning into the cold, rusted railing.

Music from the bar can be heard through the door that stands ajar, and Hades finds himself looking at her- his dance partner for the last seven dances.

Her hands and forearms are covered in the silk of her long white gloves, her neck adorned by pearls and her dark curls cascade over her shoulders. She glances at him and winks, almost coquettishly.

"What did you tell me your name was?" he asks her, feigning nonchalance. She smiles.

"I didn't tell you," she replies, and balances a glass of wine between two long fingers, takes a sip. "It's Maria."

"Maria, of course- it's a pleasure."

"The pleasure is mine," she replies politely. "May I ask your name?"

He shakes his head. "'What's in a name?'" he quotes, and can hear her complete the phrase with an, "'a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.'"

Hades nods, and an uncomfortable silence follows, dotted by a sigh, red lips taking small sips of even redder wine and, finally, the shifting of them both as they look down into the worn Italian streets.

"You know," she exhales, "being this far up, seeing the world below- it's almost enough to make you feel...-"

"Omnipotent?" he suggests, trying to hide his slight disgust. He is omnipotent, yes, but is not anything if not below the world.

Maria keeps her gazed fixed in the streets below them and into the lights that blink on and off, almost hypnotically so. She doesn't answer him, and his disgust resigns itself into confusion and maybe the tiniest bit of curiosity.

"Would you like to be immortal? Omnipotent? Infinite?" he blurts out, and is startled by how urgent his voice sounds.

And, of all things, Maria laughs, loud and clear.

She then shakes her head no, looks at him briefly before turning her face to the sky. "Do you know who Homer was?"

"The poet? I do," he says, and feels compelled to add, a bit too well. He doesn't, though, and lets her continue.

"Homer said," she explains, "that the gods envy us. They envy us because we're doomed." Maria closes her eyes, plays with the empty glass of wine. "Every moment is more precious because it could be our last."

A quiet, desolate sigh escapes Hades' lips, followed by a short silence. Then he says, "they do," with such heaviness that she opens her eyes and looks at him for what feels like the first time.

He smiles at her reassuringly, and she smiles back, not suspecting just how much her words had meant to him.

(In the years to come, he would look back and recall that very moment, would close his eyes and tilt his head back like she had done and replay her words time and time again. And he would also smile, although sadly.)

But as for now a new song is playing and the night is young- so he takes her gloved hands in his and asks her for one more dance. Her painted lips curl upwards at the same time their fingers entwine.

And so they enter back into the bar, hand in hand.