Dionysus makes a soft, noncommittal noise. He hates everything about this, of course. He hates that he can't be of more use, he hates what could potentially happen to a sweet friend, and he hates that he doesn't know what on Earth is going on.

"So what is your plan exactly? Walk right up and say 'hello, I'm Shakespeare's Laertes, are you a goddess and are you planning on sending me to -- back to my story? Also, while we're chatting, have you been dishing out nightmares? What are your thoughts on driving people mad?'" He rubs his face. This day just keeps getting worse. "Sorry. That was mean, I'm sorry. I'm just worried."