ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀ ʙɪᴛᴇꜱ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴀʙᴇᴛʜ/ꜱᴏʟᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ

xxᴠɪɪ ᴀɴɴᴀʙᴇᴛʜ | ᴀɴɴᴀʙᴇᴛʜ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴅɪᴠᴀ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ

The silverware is perfectly perpendicular to the edge of the table, the runner is straight, and a little place card has Annabeth's name written on it in pristine calligraphy.

And she's wearing tights with pentagrams on them. How appropriate, given that this is a literal memorial for a dead hero. Fan-fucking-tastic. Nice going, Will, she thinks as she sits down at the table.

Will pulls out a chair and plops down next to her. At least Piper and Hazel know well enough to seat her next to her best friend.

"So are those donuts just for show, or do we actually get to eat them?" Will asks. Annabeth supposes he's trying to lighten the mood because it sure is awkward as hell right now.

She just shrugs in reply. This isn't her scene. Will goes to dinners and things for his internship sometimes; he knows how to act. Annabeth, on the other hand, works at Hooters. She does not know how to act right now.

"C'mon, why so quiet?" asks Will. "I thought you'd be pissing all over this place by now."

Maybe Will doesn't know how to act either.

Annabeth would like to be pissing all over this place, figuratively, of course. It's in her nature. When she broke up with Percy, he backed off. He stayed away from Camp Half-Blood because that was her territory, her turf.

Maybe the reason why Annabeth hasn't grabbed a sprinkled donut and bragged about herself yet is that these people are expecting a different Annabeth Chase. They're excited to see Annabeth Chase, the architect, the one with her life pulled together. They don't want anything to do with the real Annabeth Chase, the Hooters girl, the one with her life seemingly in shambles. Who says a bartender can't be successful? Annabeth's life is pulled together, even if she's not satisfying her teenage aspirations.

A plate of chicken and waffles collides with the table and wakes her from her thoughts. Her stomach gurgles, but her head says "Mmm, better not." Annabeth decides to listen to her head. Can't risk throwing up at Jason's memorial brunch. That would probably be disrespectful.

"Well, now that we're no longer shit-faced," Reyna says, scooting in close to Annabeth, "I guess we can catch up. Hi. What's new with you?"

What is new with Annabeth? "Uh, you know, not much. Little headache, that's all. Lip kinda hurts."

Her lip really hurts. Like, throbbing pain. Damn, why did Nico have to point it out? It didn't hurt before she knew about the swelling. She reaches for her spider bites, but that only makes it worse.

"Stop touching them," Will says. "They'll get worse."

"I know," Annabeth hisses.

Will throws his hands up in defense. "Doctor's orders, heh." He picks at one of his unruly curls.

"Oh thank the gods," Percy says, red in the face. Had he just run a fucking marathon? "I need to talk to you, do you have a minute?" He pulls out the chair across from Annabeth and sits down.

This nightmare just keeps getting worse. Hasn't Percy already humiliated her enough?

"That's Piper's seat," Annabeth says flatly.

Percy continues to talk. "Since when do you care about assigned seating? Anyway-"

Will throws an arm around Annabeth. "She doesn't want to talk to you." Will Solace is all sunshine and rainbows until someone makes an unwarranted pass at his best friend.

Whatever Percy's doing is not meant to be a pass. Annabeth just wants to crawl into her sweater and die.

Reyna saves the day: "Piper!" She stands up and waves. "Tell Barnacle Breath to get out of your seat!"