And another one. I don't think I've given Minerva this much dialogue... ever, actually. Points if you can find all the random symbolism of the first two lines. I may have gone to town.

Lamia and Other Poems (Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes and Other Poems) belongs to Keats and The Golden Ass to Apuleius.

Chapter Three: The Holy Trinity

Minerva is dressed for the occasion. Morning glory and white gauze, ephemeral in the late afternoon.

He is sitting on the balcony facing south, watching the sea below them. He looks up, smiling, as she approaches.

She smiles as well, but it is a different kind of smile. Running a hand through the hair at the back of his neck, she perches herself on the arm of his chair. He shifts away to give her space, brow faintly creased.

'Good evening.'

'Good evening,' she echoes and makes her move, now, before he starts speaking and quantum physics or the chaos theory get in her way. Her lips touch his and she leans forward, precariously balanced.

But it's only the briefest of touches before he pushes her away. He stands, taking a step back, 'What are you doing?'

'What does it look like I'm doing, Artemis? Or have you suddenly taken leave of your much vaunted intellectual prowess?' confusion and the beginnings of doubt make her peevish.

'Don't be juvenile.'

It's deserved but it only serves to turn her peevishness to anger, 'Sorry, Mother.'

'What did I just say? At any rate, you know perfectly well there is already someone.'

And to her anger he adds jealousy. Oh, she knows alright. Better than he does.

Minerva leans back, arms folded protectively over her breasts, 'Don't be ridiculous. You don't even know who she is. I do. And she's nothing but an uppity little Lilith.'

Artemis smoothes his hair back into place, seemingly unconcerned by this revelation, 'Perhaps. But I'm afraid that still doesn't make you Eve.'

She laughs then, bitterly, for of course she had taken Holly's bait as easily as an apple from a snake. 'Nor you Adam,' she replies, though weakly she'll admit, and leaves him.

Minerva continues to whisper in Butler's ear until he is half mad with worry. Until he can't keep quiet any longer.

'Please Artemis, God only knows who she is.'

Artemis doesn't look up from Lamia and Other Poems, 'I know who she is. Don't worry old friend, she hasn't come to steal your child and eat him.'

Butler skips the allusion and gets straight to the point, 'And just who is she, then?'

His charge shrugs, as though to rid himself of an itch, 'I don't know her name. Though, I'm sure I did once. I must have done...' his thoughts wander for a moment. 'At any rate, Butler, I do know her.'

Needless to say, Butler is not reassured, 'You don't know her name, but you know her? Artemis, this is no time to get sappy on me.'

At last Artemis does look up, nettled, 'I am not 'getting sappy on you'. I am being entirely literal,' he shrugs, 'Call her Cupid, if you must call her something. Though, in this day and age that name has been reduced to a horrible cliché.'

'Has it?'

But he's lost him again, those mismatched eyes are looking at something far away that Butler knows he will never be able to see. He sighs, 'Would you just think about it, Artemis? Please. For me. Just get a look at her even, that couldn't do much harm.'

'And yet we were only just speaking of Cupid. Obviously you've never read The Golden Ass.'

Though it's not something he often has to do, Butler can recognise when it's time to give up.