Although it's now almost painfully obvious that this is a game, Hythlodaeus can't help the shiver that goes through him at the kiss, the frantic beating of his heart under Hades's hand, with no way to hide, the tight, burning feeling in his gut at the request. To make everything worse, this is a game that Hythlodaeus relies on outside factors for his retaliation in; in private, there are much fewer things that could successfully fluster Hades anymore. Damn him and his twelve thousand years and the ridiculous city he went to.

He closes his eyes, breathing out slowly, disregarding the blush on his cheeks because there's really nothing he can do about that, so he might as well ignore it.

"...Who would I be to ignore a friend in need?" Hythlodaeus murmurs in response once he regains his composure. If it hadn't been a question, he would have been able to dodge it as an order from Emet-Selch, and that would be a much easier field to play on. But once again Hades knows just how to pitch his voice, damn him, and calling his bluff directly would be like getting upset and leaving just because you're bad at the game. Hythlodaeus would like to hope he has more dignity than that.

So he raises his fingers to lift Hades's chin, cup his face gently, and lean in...

...to plant a kiss to his third eye again. He never got told where or what kind of kiss.