ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀ ʙɪᴛᴇꜱ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴀʙᴇᴛʜ/ꜱᴏʟᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ

xʟ ᴡɪʟʟ | ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀɴᴅ ɴɪᴄᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴊᴏʏʀɪᴅᴇ

Will's seen a lot of mood-killers in the past forty-eight hours, but the mood killer to end all mood killers has got to be checking in on Percy's mom.

Nico was so kind to do that for Percy, especially since Will knows how annoyed he gets with Percy being overbearing. It was a nice thing to do. It was the right thing to do.

Nobody had ever told Will that Percy's mom is sick, though. If he had known, he'd have offered some help earlier. He feels like a jerk for not doing so.

"Do they have a diagnosis?" Will asks.

"I think so," says Nico. "Percy doesn't like to talk about it though. He just makes excuses like how she doesn't remember things and stuff."

Will has a few guesses as to what it could be, but he doesn't want to speculate. That's Percy and Sally's business, and it's not his place to pry.

"So that's why he's so uptight all the time," Will says. "I don't wanna judge, but maybe people would give him the benefit of the doubt more often if they knew."

"Oh, I know they would," Nico says.

Will sticks his hands in his sweatshirt pocket and sighs.

Nico presses the 'down' arrow on the elevator.

Will's not afraid of elevators or anything, but it does feel kind of weird using one in the hotel after years of opting to take the stairs with Annabeth. She doesn't do elevators anymore. Will decided a long time ago not to ask about that quirk.

Soft elevator music plays while they stand, both facing forward.

Nico's fingers hover over the buttons. "So, do you want to get drunk down in the basement bar or outside?"

Will shrugs. "I'm cool with either. Just don't make me play cornhole."

Nico smiles and takes the elevator to the ground level. Outside it is.

"Oh, and don't make me drink any more of that Bud Light," Will says.

"But I liked watching you try to choke it down. You kept gagging; it was really funny."

"Shut up."

Nico throws his hands up in defense. "Hey, I don't judge. I don't like that hard seltzer stuff you and Annabeth do. And you guys don't like beer."

"Oh, let's get one thing straight: Annabeth does like beer."

"I'd be concerned if she didn't. Whoever heard of a bartender that doesn't like beer?"

Will picks at a hangnail. He forgot he told that to Nico.

"I'm kinda jealous," Nico says as they step out of the elevator. "I'd love to live with a bartender. Best I got is Mrs. O'Leary and the puppies."

"How are they doing?" Will asks.

"Good. Remind me to show you some pictures later. I left my phone charging in my room," Nico says, holding the door open.

"Why thank you," says Will.

He can barely believe it's the same bar he played cornhole and got sickly drunk at. It's different in the nighttime. Bicycles and skateboards are parked all around, and instead of cornhole, they're playing bocce ball.

"Oh, I love bocce!" says Nico.

Of course, the hundred-year-old Italian guy loves bocce ball.

A girl wearing a backward turned baseball cap throws a bocce ball with incredible speed. It knocks about three other balls off course.