Achilles had no reason to stay as he held his head high heading down the hallway. Asclepius had stepped on an unseen line, speaking like a father to him in a manner he'd always had. To a point it gritted on the warriors nerves.

Achilles' eternal mistress would be the thrive of battle. Blood, battle and the rush. His heart had hardened over the years. Through the course of his reincarnations he'd let little go in the ways of his heart, though he was still compassionate and considerate.

This revelation while opening doors also peaked many more circumstances. Achilles was as arrogant as any god, just not with the fancy powers to show off. Bit Achilles had other skills.

He looked down on the little muse as he turned to face her, his uniform showing off his strong facial features and just made him look dashing.

"There was no choice," he said in a straight tone though she'd just announced that. He needed to assert the assumption. "There are others here," as if there was a hint f rejection in his voice that she had not come to speak with him earlier--when he'd been in a better mood.