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Well, the shock's worn off, but the weird center of gravity hasn't. And did we mention that hips are profoundly difficult to get used to when you've been comfortable in the male form for however many thousands of years?

If you're going to recognize the woman smoking at the Bar tonight, then, it's probably because she seems to be swimming in someone else's leather jacket.

On the other hand, maybe you won't. Either way, it's a gamble whether Prometheus will come clean to you or not.

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It's not so hard to figure out, really. But that's mostly because Lethe just doesn't look at people the same way that others do - it's not an outside thing, it's an inside thing - and he is the same that way.

So the little nymph a few seats down swings her legs and giggles very politely, fingers hovering over her mouth.

"You look pretty?"

The question startles her for a moment. But once she recognizes Lethe, there's a bit of a rueful smile.

"Aren't I? That's a comfort, at least. I see you've managed to avoid the mints, then."

"They have food that does that?"

Her nose scrunches slightly on one side, head tilting. She was thinking more along the lines of very impressive pranks - or strange holidays that she wasn't informed of.

"It is fortunate that I do not eat very much then."

"From what I can gather, it was sort of a one-time deal. I don't think they're in wide production." Prometheus snorts. "It's my own damn fault. I wanted a mint in case Charlie showed up, and should have thought to read the label. Let that be a lesson to me!"

It just figures, doesn't it? Prometheus doesn't eat very much either.

She eyes Lethe. "You're thinking something. I know that look."

It's true a bit. She just might brighten slightly around the edges as he speaks, fingers folding together in her lap. She blinks in an entirely innocent manner and that expression, at least, she's very very good at.

An earnest nod, "She's rather pretty too."

Shiny and innocent. Really.

Shiny, Prometheus has always been a sucker for. Innocent's another story.

Still, turning the topic to Charlie is a surefire way to get a smile. "She really, really is. Not to mention all the other qualities that recommend her."

Shiny, and, at this point, easily distracted. (Especially if it's distracting from the fact that Prometheus is still a girl.)

Well, that's not going away at the moment. And can be easily brought up again at later times - not that Lethe's very good at teasing, all things considered.

She smiles, "Well, those are rather more important, I think."

Pretty is relative, anyhow.

Her head tilts a bit further, hair tumbling messily over her shoulders.

"She makes you happy?" she inquires - because, really, that's all that matters.

Prometheus nods. "She really does. Kind of took me by surprise, but that's nice, every once in a while." Beat. "I still like all this better on her than on me, though. The lady-shape is all very well and good, but I'm happier as an outside critic." There is gesticulation. "You, for instance! You do the girl thing really well."

She glitters a bit more and lets the subject drop neatly with nothing more than a pleased, "Good." and a bright smile.

Her cheeks flush brightly at the gesturing, however. It's mostly automatic.

"I do not think that I would be a very good boy, if it makes you feel any better? It is the nymph thing - we are generally sort of made this way, I am thinking."

She tilts her head, mirroring Lethe. "I don't know. I think either way, you'd be a knockout. That's a nymph thing too."

It's also a Lethe thing, but hell, she knows he--she--dammit!-- adores her already.

She rather adores him back, so it all works out neatly.

"I would not know how to walk right and I do not think that I would be fitting into my dresses properly," she laughs, then leans forward a bit. "Is it odd being so low to the ground?"

She's used to it, but it might be a little strange if you hadn't been before.

"Welcome to the past twenty-four hours of my life," Prometheus sighs good-humoredly.

She leans forward too. "It is. The only time I've felt this short was with the Norsemen. I contemplated finding some tall shoes, just to even things out, but I've seen you guys try walking in those. I don't even want to contemplate what would come of me in high heels."

Lethe shakes her head very quickly and gestures down to her bare feet, swinging her legs once more.

"I generally trip awfully," she admits with a grin. "It is not a very good plan. And they are terribly pointy."

A giggle, "I am probably still shorter than you, so you can still look down at someone at least."

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The jacket's almost a giveaway on its own. So is something about the body language, and ... well, and her conversation with Mercer the other night.

Charlie steps up to the bar next to the woman, and glances at her sidelong.

Anybody else, Prometheus would studiously ignore. He's got indifferent hostility down to an art, if it comes to that.

But given that it's someone he likes, and moreover, given that it's Charlie, instead, there's an immediate reaction.

"Oh shit! Thank goodness!" And the waifish woman is out of her seat and hugging Charlie before there's a chance to think about it. "I promise I can explain this!"

... being taller than Prometheus is an unnerving experience.

"Uh -- you can?"

Being short when you're a Titan is unnerving too!

She backs up, still holding Charlie's shoulders. The irons hang like bangles off her wrists. "Yes," she says, very seriously. "It was the mints. This is an object lesson in reading warning labels and being totally careful about casual dining at this place. I don't know how to fix it yet."

That all came out very fast.

"...the mints?"

Stare.

"You're serious. No, you are. You're completely serious."

She nods. "So incredibly serious that I've only just been able to stop laughing about it."

Beat.

"Well, mostly it was Mercer doing the laughing. But sometimes it's good to farm these things out."

That gets a momentary snort of laughter. Farming things out further, clearly.

"I met Mercer last night, actually -- she didn't seem to know what caused this." A beat. "He. I'm sorry."

The wry smirk on Prometheus's face makes it look more familiar, if not more normal.

"Man, trust me, this has not yet hit the apex of weird for any of us yet."

She laughs. "He anything like you expected? Apart from not being a he?"

"Hard to say. I'm not sure what I expected. I do like him, though." A pause, and a resigned sigh. "It's going to be hard to stop thinking of him as her, though, I can tell you that now. First impressions."

It's completely involuntary, but Prometheus cover her mouth with one hand and giggles.

It takes a moment to process what's just happened. "Sorry," she says, eyes wide. "That won't happen again." She clears her throat. "You'll like him as a guy too. He's good people, if a little manic."

"I gathered that," she grins.

And studies Prometheus for a moment.

"All right, if eating a mint caused this, would eating another mint make you ... switch back?"