He wouldn't blush if he knew the exact measure of Dirk's appreciation for his body, but were he one to be flustered over such perhaps he would. At the very least, he'd be moved by it. It isn't that he cannot or does not appreciate the physical, he certainly does, but being an eternal being that can sculpt his vessels in any likeness he so desires, the usual appreciation behind such is lost on him. However, he has been rediscovering it, what with his loss of such a power, and the work and effort he has since put in to maintain this ideal form for himself.
That Dirk appreciates it so is certainly an added bonus. That, and the level of appreciation Dirk has towards the scar that adorns his body. If it was merely the shallow admiration of the aesthetics of it, that would mean little to him, but that Dirk views it as some kind of trophy or award for his sacrifice? His willingness to allow himself to be destroy bit by bit for those he would save, those he would resurrect, for the world he would make whole again...well, it simply proves that Dirk understands his toiling.
Values it unlike so many others.
It isn't till he's pulling his arms through the sleeves of the robe that he turns and notices Dirk watching him—settled in the spot he vacated mere moments ago. He pauses to stare down at him for a single beat, before his mouth curls into an affectionate smirk. His own appreciation of Dirk's subtle but genuine gestures of affectionate attachment to Hades' very presence. His existence, and what traces of such he leaves behind—even if its fleeting warmth, or the indent his weight left in his bedding.
Pulling his robe closed around himself he approaches again. Tying the sash loosely in the front, but enough to hide that scar, he finally speaks, "come now, if you offer him silence, he may very well take that as a victory, ill-won as it would be. He is already rather incurably smug, do you not agree? Little should we encourage him."
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That Dirk appreciates it so is certainly an added bonus. That, and the level of appreciation Dirk has towards the scar that adorns his body. If it was merely the shallow admiration of the aesthetics of it, that would mean little to him, but that Dirk views it as some kind of trophy or award for his sacrifice? His willingness to allow himself to be destroy bit by bit for those he would save, those he would resurrect, for the world he would make whole again...well, it simply proves that Dirk understands his toiling.
Values it unlike so many others.
It isn't till he's pulling his arms through the sleeves of the robe that he turns and notices Dirk watching him—settled in the spot he vacated mere moments ago. He pauses to stare down at him for a single beat, before his mouth curls into an affectionate smirk. His own appreciation of Dirk's subtle but genuine gestures of affectionate attachment to Hades' very presence. His existence, and what traces of such he leaves behind—even if its fleeting warmth, or the indent his weight left in his bedding.
Pulling his robe closed around himself he approaches again. Tying the sash loosely in the front, but enough to hide that scar, he finally speaks, "come now, if you offer him silence, he may very well take that as a victory, ill-won as it would be. He is already rather incurably smug, do you not agree? Little should we encourage him."