Zotikos looks up at her again and blinks in surprise. "—I think I should be the one asking that!"

"Well I can't really hop on land and make any kind of sport of it, obviously you'd just catch me!"

"What????"

"Look I know I'm not as, as, pretty and perfect as a nereid, and I'm part," she looks away, ashamed, "you know, but I'm not just. Not worth any effort at all...."

Something in her voice cracks on the last syllable, and it sounds like she kind of wants to cry.

"Okay back up like twenty steps here because I think something has gotten lost in translation."

".... Nevermind," she murmurs, and then she releases her rock and disappears into the water.

"Wait! No, come on, damnit—"

He gets to his feet and limps over to where she dove into to try to see if he can see where she went.

Nope! Nope, she seems to be gone. Again. Maybe she'll pop back up again...?

...

Nope, she's actually just gone.

"Come on! Eutelia!" he calls.

There is no answer.

Godsdamnit.

He goes back to the beach and sits at the edge of the water then says, "O beautiful nereids, hear my plea and offer me your succor in this time of need.

"I can't tell you which way the gale has turned
for waves crash in from west and east, and I
am tossed and driven between them, my black ship
laboring under the giant storm.

"The sea washes across the decks and maststep
and dark daylight already shows through long rents
in the sails. Even the halyards slacken as
windward waves coil above the hill.

"What sore labor to bail the water we've shipped!
But though I heave and try to ride out the storm,
ride it through to the end of dawn,
still the storm evades me."*

He keeps his eyes open and waits.

* Adaptation of an English translation of A Nation at Sea.

There is a long pause, and then a gorgeous (and very naked) young lady made out of pure water rises up from the waves.

"You beg aid to find a lost child,
raised a pearl among glittering diamonds,
heartbroken at why she shines not
the same as the gems around her.

"It aids neither to intercede,
and lead a hunter his quarry's den,
if he stops not to consider why she fled,
or what he'll do once he finds her."*

Her form dissipates, with the parting words, "My answer, and the answer you will hear from all of my sisters, therefore, is no."

*Badly translated from Greek to English by an intern; we are trying to find a translator that will not butcher the original poem while still conveying its meaning.

He slumps down at that. What!!!!

"I—once I find her I will ask her why she fled, that's the point!!!!!!" he yells. "Eutelia!" he yells again, expecting no response.

That is precisely what he gets.

Zotikos growls, and waits a little bit longer, and then leans forward to rest his forehead on his hands.

He was flirting! She noticed he was flirting, didn't she? She blushed, he saw it, and then she asked him, and he asked her, and then she—hid? Why would she hide—and then she—left and then came back and... said she... wouldn't be much sport inland...

"Oh, for the love of—"

Well. That has killed his mood and his boner. And he can't very well look for her while limping in the dark. So instead he goes back to his spot and tries to get to sleep.

It takes him a very, very long time.

He is rudely awoken by a very loud thunk of a large slab of slate hitting the beach, in the morning.

"So," says Eutelia, loudly and in a no-nonsense and business-like tone. She points at things carved onto the surface with her claws. "Here is the island you're on, here are the closest nearby islands, and a rough estimation of the direction of the nearby tides, the closest inhabited island is Lemnos, you'll likely want to aim for it..."

Zotikos opens his eyes and sits up immediately, all sleep-induced grogginess completely absent. He looks at her, looks down at the map, then up at her again, and says without preamble: "Did you want me to chase you? That was incredibly not obvious and I still do not understand why you would want that but I assure you the fact that I did not has nothing to do with how desirable you are. Which is very."

Something in her face contorts at the word 'very,' and she looks away.

"... Damn it, I was trying to pretend last night didn't happen and move on with both of our lives, and then you went and addressed it directly." She huffs, and crosses her arms. She's still not looking at him. "... I don't know how else it's supposed to go."

"...well, uh, the way it was going? You know, how I said something vague that you could have pretended meant something else, and then you did not, so I made it a little bit more obvious, and then you...

"Hid behind a rock!"

"Mocking me for the incomprehensible nature of my actions does not help either of us understand the disconnect between our two worldviews."

"I'm sorry, it was not meant as mockery, it was—I was so—confused, it completely broke my flow.

"The way it goes can—well, it can go many ways, really, but given the way you had previously acted shy and coy it seemed like the way it was supposed to go was that I would make casual remarks of interest in your general direction as we got to know each other better and you would either eventually decide that you wanted none of it and make it clear or you would start following one of the lines I threw at you. There might have been intermediate parts where you followed the lines a little bit further than the last time, both because it's fun and to see where exactly my lines are leading and how I react to that.

"How were you expecting it to go?"

".... The... normal way it goes when men see a pretty woman and lose their minds to lust...?" She waves a hand, vaguely. "Like Poseidon and the nereids. You know, chasing them to the furthest reaches of the sea, trying to win their hearts with songs or poetry, or... something. To either catch her directly or persuade her to let herself be caught."

"...so, gods are very, very different from normal men.—not that there aren't any men like that, but I personally find that being with someone who may not want to be there is not actually that fun, especially if afterwards they hate you. Some men do not mind it but I do. And poetry and songs are another way to do it, sure, and sometimes just saying you want it but—for people who are not gods there is always something to lose, or at least the risk of."

"If I really wanted to get away from you, I would jump into the sea and swim elsewhere and you'd likely never see me again," she points out, reasonably.

"Sure but it did not occur to me that you wanted to be caught, most women who run don't actually."