Ganymede smiles gently at that, and...honestly he might have let it be, he could have let Raylan believe whatever he wanted about how sturdy Ganymede was. But there was something there that gave him the smallest glimmer of hope that he might understand. That this man, who likely had very little grasp on Homeric hymns and epic poetry and mythologies from half a world away and several dozen lifetimes ago, wouldn't think he was insane for what was going to happen.

If, of course, he told him.

"Do you trust me, Raylan?" he asked quietly, not accusatory in the slightest. It was an honest question. "Enough to tell you something I...really don't tell anyone else?" He'd done this before, had this exact conversation with an incredibly wide variance in outcome, but each time was new, and worrying, and each time gave him that faintly gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. "I don't want you to think I'm crazy."