"A millennium. 'Millennia' is plural," he corrects, because hey -- he's never one to back down from an opportunity to be equally petty.

And saying so, Qilby then takes the time to remove his glasses, cleaning them one-handed on the loose fabric of his tunic with only a little difficulty. Apollo is ignored for the moment in favor of this, and it's several seconds before he finally turns a disdainful eye back on her. "I see now that you're even more short-sighted than I possibly could have imagined. You think that's the extent of what I'm doing here? That I'm wasting my efforts?" Even he can't hold his even, restrained tone for long, and soon enough there's a dangerous edge in his tone that matches his steadily deepening scowl.

"Fine -- if you think yourself so capable, why don't we take you straight to the source of the problem? It's not as if it's difficult to find the Legion. Go ahead and fight them as you are now, you so-called 'King of the Sea,'" he says, smiling suddenly, in a voice like a coiled snake. "I dare you."

Maybe if he's lucky, she'll take the bait, completely inebriated as she is. Death will certainly save her a headache in the morning, and him a headache for the rest of the time he's here.