The Initiative expects culture shock to give Apollo a tough time, but he's fine. He hasn't been on Earth for long yet, but he only ever returned every few hundred years. Adjusting to the times is something he's done over and over.

If anything, this is the most he'd ever liked Earth, barring the ancient wars of love and glory.

Since he arrived, the Initiative dresses him, but it didn't take much pressing for Apollo to get a credit card to start building his own wardrobe. Today, he favors a silk tunic in soft gold, with dark, close-fitted jeans. He aims to avoid standing out, but it can be hard for the god of light to keep a low profile.

He realizes it's even harder to keep a low profile with Maria around.

Apollo has a radiant smile, and this one's only for Maria. "Good tidings," he says, though he knows that's not a greeting anyone uses anymore. "Hast thou wait'd for me ere long?"

MARIA

"Hello then," he tries, tasting the words. He brightens a little, though it's hard to tell if it's because he enjoys Maria's company or if he just enjoys learning the ways of the modern world. He takes a step closer, kisses Maria on either cheek, and steps away--though not too far away. Apollo also knows that kissing, cheeks or no, is no longer customary in his time and place. He doesn't let that stop him though.

"We shall. Whith--where to?" he asks, correcting himself as he spoke.

He'd passed many stores on his way here, and while he didn't go inside any of them, he could tell just from the outside that they were very expensive, very classy places to buy clothes. Extravagant purchases hardly deterred him though. A funded shopping spree was hardly any different from offerings at his temples. If anything, it was a lesser offering, but it's still one he's happy to accept.

MARIA

With ten thousand years of life, Apollo knows how to make conversation, and he knows how to tell a story. For centuries, songs were stories, and stories were songs. He tells Maria tales of Troy, not of its end or of the war, but of noble Hector and beautiful Helen. Even now, he seeks out people that remind him of them.

He has no choice but to trust Maria's choice of stores. He doesn't really know what clothes are stylish and what aren't in this modern day, besides for what he seen. He's watched a few movies, and he leaves the television on when he's home. He knows enough that the frock coats and corsets of centuries ago are niche now.

"I know little of what is lovely in this time," he admits to Maria, a bit sheepishly though sheepish is an odd look on a god. He mostly just looks sunny. "Pray tell me that thou might guide me, for I can see that thou art lovely, but clothes are... more of a challenge."

MARIA

Maria's energy seems boundless. If Apollo shifts into moving light at some points to keep up (he's not the sort to bounce around--he might just be a superpowered alien, but he still carries himself as a true deity ought to when he can).

He blinks at Maria, the smiles wryly. "Togas," he answers. He doesn't laugh, but it's a joke. They're not going to find togas here. "I believe I yet prefer clothes that drape loosely. I remember the brocade doublets and breeches from when I was here last, but I shan't think they are common anymore."

Apollo doesn't hide his distaste when he adds, "T'was too difficult to merely get dressed in that day. This millenia is far preferable."

He takes the clothes and heads to the dressing room. When he's out he's uncertain--not insecure about his inherent beauty but he's not used to wearing these bright colors or cloth of this texture. "What dost thou think?"

MARIA