Phobos looks singularly unimpressed. He is a god - and what could harm a god but another. Clark isn't quite registering on his worried scale yet, or so says his expression.

"Until later, Lady." At least his bow borders on politeness, though the tone promises there will be a conversation --of sorts-- in the near future, before the god turns and vanishes.

Eirene emits a frightened squeak, unsure whether lean against Clark or straighten up, the instincts to accept comfort and stand on her own warring with one another.

"Oh, Zeus, no."