"Right, well, I happened to be in the neighborhood and thought, why not drop by to see the show? It was a spectacular duel, I've got to say. Maybe have a word with Aeschylus down below and he can write a play about it. Doesn't hurt that now I get to see my coz in person."

Hermes is the sort of person who somehow manages to phrase anything like he only cares a minor amount about it, even if he cares a lot. It's helpful for him to keep his cards close to his chest, and to avoid revealing too much to his messy and vindictive family who are all far too proud to be openly loving. But the evidence of his care is in the apple that he now is tossing from hand to hand, gleaming bright gold.

"Here, then. Catch." He tosses the golden apple to Zagreus with a wink. "Eat it up, down to the stem and seeds. Don't leave any trace or we'll both be sorry."

Hera didn't just grow those apples for their golden shine. Every bite prolonged a person's life, a rare and wonderful prize for any hero willing to risk the goddess' wrath. And one apple should be juuuuust enough for a Chthonic god to spend a full twenty-four hours away from the Underworld without withering.

Just so long as Hera didn't discover who stole or ate one of her apples. Her temper was legendary.