By the flaring of the war-god's nostrils, Clark's possible intentions work. "Fine. Five o'clock, the stadium. See you there." His sister's lips twitch just once, because Ares sounds like a petulant five year old, but she nods solemnly. "Of course."

There a nod, a very awkward hug between the siblings, and sooner rather than later, she's left alone with Clark.

"I-- you weren't. I'm sorry for his rude behavior."