Private My Father's God's Sister's Sort-Of Daughter (Maybe)? Seems Legit.

"Why does there need to be fifty different types of cup."

The girl scratched the base of her antlers as she took a gander at the chic stuff on the shelves in whatever posh corner of town she'd ended up in. Colors popped and stabbed, patterns flowed and staggered, and everything was really, really expensive. Her fingernails - yellow in spite of the fall cold, or maybe because of it - tapped against a tiny white mug with some sort of inspirational slogan on it. "Wonder... no, wanderlust.... Wanderlust is for the brow... no. Brave. ," the cup read in flowy, stupid cursive letters. Cursive was hard enough to read in Greek - she hadn't even done all that well in English, anyway!

"And why does everything have to be written in cursive?"

She set the cup down and turned her head, trying not to knock down the whole row of weird twenty-dollar cups. Maybe there was better stuff in the pillows section. Not like she had anything better to do - homework was just straight-up boring, and not a lot of her friends were really out right now, so what did she have to lose?

She strode purposefully towards the pillows area. Maybe if she got lucky she'd find a fluffy one big enough for her antlers.

@Zora

Same song, second verse in the pillow aisle - rows of tawny-coloured pillows stitched with itchy slogans or flashy sequins or neonlike colors. They were all square. Or most of them, anyway. What was the use of a square pillow? They were just uncomfortable and kinda weird to sit on. They weren't even soft or anything. She rounded the corner of the aisle. More of the same. Maybe the next aisle held some sort of fauns' pillow?

Chris whipped around the corner to the third aisle and very nearly impaled something with her horns, which knocked her back with the weight of them. Falling onto her butt. Her ears downturned in embarrassment and pain, and her brow furrowed in frustration.

"Hey, I'm walking here!"

"Yeah, and so what if I'm a faun?" Chris asked in a rough tone, springing up and arching her neck so that her antlers faced Harmonia again. "I have the right to walk where I wanna walk, don't I?" Oof, Chris' bitchface. Not to mention, when she looked up again, she saw what could be considered a pretty human being. Long, wavy brown hair. Something designer for clothing - Chris didn't know and didn't care who. "Not my fault you were in the way. These damn horns are so visible, you can see them from a mile away. They're friggin' plated! How did this not shine in your eyes, miss?"

"Funny, cause you look like the kind of ass-kissing, brown-nosing, hot little demigods that pranced around trying to get us to help you. Your poor assistant must be bored to death." Her voice was cool, even, and sardonic. Chris, hand on her hip, gave a once-over of the pair. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something about this lady told her she wasn't quite human. She didn't know if she was right calling the woman a demigod, but it still bugged her. And the way she said Zeus almighty. "You're not even carrying your own cups. What, are you that lightweight?"
Some familiarity in the face, she decided. She didn't know why, but that face looked familiar.

It was this that clicked it in her mind. The similarities were from Dionysus' side. In fact, she didn't know why she hadn't realized sooner. Squinting, she shook her head in what looked like a dismissive way, but she was actually surprised. It was true, what everyone said about it being a small world. At least she was right about the demigods, because honestly, that's what they did back then and even now.

Chris lifted her head and sighed. "Thought I noticed the similarities. Y'know, I thought you were Aphrodite's. You're hot... headed. Though, could you tell Dionysus that he has to fucking accept my sacrifices to him? Seriously, I'm getting low on wine." Gone was the sarcastic demeanour, replaced by a casual tone that almost betrayed no shame for her insults. Almost. Her stance shifted from on guard to totally casual. She even drew back her head/antlers to face her fully. "Even goddesses can carry their own cups, though."