ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀ ʙɪᴛᴇꜱ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴀʙᴇᴛʜ/ꜱᴏʟᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ

xʟɪɪɪ ᴀɴɴᴀʙᴇᴛʜ | ᴀɴɴᴀʙᴇᴛʜ ᴋɪᴄᴋꜱ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴀʀᴅ ꜱᴇʟᴛᴢᴇʀ

Annabeth remembers when she was a little kid, desperately waiting to be granted a quest, a chance to be the hero. Years passed, and it finally happened, but it wasn't her quest. No, it was Percy's quest. She was just the annoying tag-along that did most of the real work.

Then she did get her own quest, and it wasn't pretty. She was a hot mess. She remembers crying a lot and lashing out at people who just wanted to be there for her. Oh, well.

Then came along her quest to find the Mark of Athena, or famously dubbed by Percy, her "solo death quest." How promising. There were a few moments where she thought she was going to die, sure, but the worst had been after she completed the quest. What a fucking bitch she'd been, boasting about her win. Granted, it was an epic win, one that any demigod would be proud of, but you know what they say.

Pride comes before the fall.

So Annabeth doesn't really do the whole questing thing anymore.

When she gets out of the shower, she cracks open another mango White Claw. Where the hell did all the water go? And why do they only have the mango flavor? Now she has to take painkillers with the single worst flavor of hard seltzer. Something tells her that combination isn't something Doctor Will would approve of.

What Will doesn't know won't hurt him.

Each knock on the door is a direct hit to her skull.

"Goddammit, I'm coming!" she shouts.

And of course, looking stupid as ever in the same jeans from last night, a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and his Camp Half-Blood necklace is Percy fucking Jackson.

"Hey! Ready to go?" he asks. "I brought you a bagel."

Annabeth lets him in but doesn't shut the door. She doesn't want anybody making any assumptions. "Not quite."

She leaves Percy in the bedroom and scurries to the bathroom. There's no time for a full face of makeup, but she's looking pretty messed-up from last night. Dark bags carry the weight of her bloodshot eyes. That won't do. She may have been attacked last night, but she doesn't want to look like it.

"I can put butter on your bagel if you want," says Percy.

"I don't suppose you got any cream cheese?"

"Er, no. Sorry."

Well, shaky eyeliner and a buttered bagel are just the best she's going to get today. The worst part is that she's expecting things to only get worse from here.

Annabeth grabs the breakfast bag from Percy. "Let's get this show on the road."

They walk down the hall in silence. Wow, Percy's actually being smart for once, not talking to Annabeth without getting some caffeine in her. White Claw just doesn't hit the same way coffee does.

Percy stops in front of the elevator and pushes the 'down' button.

Annabeth clears her throat. "Stairs."

"But they play music in the elevator," he jokes.

"I don't do elevators."

"You did the other night when I brought you back from the club."

Did she? She doesn't remember. "We're taking the stairs."

Percy raises his arms in defense and follows her to the stairwell.

She speeds down the stairs, resisting the urge to slide down the banister like a character in a romantic comedy. Honestly? Annabeth feels like a character in a romantic comedy. She's literally traipsing around a hotel trying to save a wedding with her ex-boyfriend while her best friend hooks up with his ex-boyfriend.