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A moment’s consideration leads you to play upon the deity’s pride – through clever questioning, you hope to force him to reveal his true identity. Of course, you start with a subtle approach:
“Young man – I am Lord Hippomedon, nephew to King Adrastus. How do you fare?”
“W-well, Lord – how can I serve, this evening?” the messenger puts on a convincing show of nervousness, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His cheeks are bit reddened, his eyes a tad glassy – the face of a young man who has oversampled fine wine not normally accessible to him. You dwarf him – a mountain of bulk compared to the slim and slight figure seated across from you.
“Tell me your name, lad, and where you hail?”
“E-eupous, my Lord. I have traveled to your uncle’s hall from the isle of Crete, bearing a message for your uncle from King Deucalion.” You nod in appreciation – the deity has chosen an apt name for his disguise – “good foot”. Now that you observe him closely, the deity’s appearance does have the look of Crete about him – a darker complexion, brown eyes and black hair. He is short, even for a commoner, perhaps only 5’2’’, and beardless - while he is young, you suspect that he will grow no farther. This is not uncommon among the lesser races of men; you sometimes forget how vasstly superior you are to most Hellenes.
“How does King Deucalion fare, Eupous? Have you traveled so far in your work for him in the past?”
“The King of Crete is strong, Lord Hippomedon, as is fitting for a grandson of the mighty Thunderer himself. He is very proud of his young son, Idomeneus – there are none more skilled in the spear upon the isle! I have seem him spar once – he strikes faster than an asp!” Eupous relates excitedly, his tongue seemingly loosened by wine.
“And have you traveled so far in the past?”
“N-never, Lord Hippomedon. This is my first time leaving King Deucalion's realm.” he admits awkwardly. Hmm – perhaps more pressure will shake something loose from the divine…
“And amongst the messengers of Crete, I presume you must be the swiftest?”
“Ah – this is not so, Lord Hippomedon. It is my cousin, Polymolpus, who is the swiftest messenger of King Deucalion’s service, but he has taken ill – an imbalance of the humors causes him to sweat and shake, although my mother thinks he will recover. King Deucalion called upon me to serve in his stead.” The answer here is humble – perhaps too humble for a god. You are beginning to doubt your initial suspicion – perhaps the boy is just a boy? You lean back in consideration, while the Eupodus sweats nervously - he doesn't seem sure of whether he should meet your eye or instead stare deferentially at your chest. Finally, you admit defeat – no deity could resist the simple temptation of vaunting here, and his attitude is simply too self-effacing.
>no roll was necessary for this social interaction, it’s an auto-success.
