Cassandra paused, staring into the top drawer. She hadn't expected that. A music hall or a temple, maybe. Perhaps even a salon of some kind for society gatherings. But the docks? It just seemed so...menial. Even if he wasn't lifting and carrying things, Cassandra still couldn't imagine Apollo, the great and mighty Phoebus Apollo, stooping so low as to work on a dock like an ordinary mortal man.

And she didn't know how to respond to it.

"How did you come into that?" she asked, slowly closing the drawer. She turned around to face him, leaning the small of her back against the nightstand. It was, perhaps, not the best position to put herself into. She was cornered, really. Trapped. At least, she supposed, the door was still open. He wouldn't get too brazen in light of that.

Would he?