ᴄᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴇᴍ: ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴀʙᴇᴛʜ/ꜱᴏʟᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ

ɪɪɪ | ᴀɴɴᴀʙᴇᴛʜ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀᴄʏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ꜱʜᴏᴡᴇʀ

Annabeth knows better than to declare rock bottom, which is why she isn't surprised that the one-bed trope followed her to Europe.

Percy, on the other hand, is livid. It's funny when he gets like this because he won't actually get mad at anyone. He'll just pace across the floor, red in the face and fists balled so tight his knuckles start to turn colors. Then again, it would be embarrassing if he went all 'Karen' on the hotel receptionist.

"Are you sure?" he asks that poor receptionist one more time.

The receptionist, who looks dead inside, just nods and spins the computer monitor around so Percy can see for himself that New Rome made this bed and now he and Annabeth are going to have to sleep in it—literally.

She can't take this anymore.

She hoists herself onto her feet, using the suitcase as support. Hey, now that's not such a bad idea! She pushes herself over to the desk and reaches over to grab a room key.

"This will be fine, thanks," Annabeth says sweetly.

The receptionist points down the hall. "Elevator's that way."

"I don't do elevators," she mutters. Fuck, she doesn't do elevators. Maybe she can use the banister on the stairs as some kind of leverage? Yeah, she can climb her way up the banister like she's a koala. It'll be like monkey bars. She's good at monkey bars.

She pushes open the door to the stairwell with her hip and pushes the suitcase toward Percy. He can carry that because he's not the one with a bum ankle.

"Annabeth, are you sure about this?" he asks. "You're hurt and we have a suitcase."

"Yes," she says quickly. This may not be the best idea she's ever had, but it's better than having a breakdown in the elevator and having to explain that to her ex.

She stumbles and clutches onto the banister for dear life. Hopefully, he didn't notice that.

He pulls the handle on the suitcase and says, "I guess I'll meet you up there then."

"Do it," she says, calling his bluff. "You won't."

He leaves.

He leaves her all alone in the stairwell.

She could follow him to the elevator, step inside, and shut her eyes so the haunting void that was Tartarus's face doesn't make an unwelcome appearance. If that happens, she wouldn't be able to avoid the guilt of what happened-

Nope, none of that.

She tugs on the banister and accidentally smacks her dud ankle against a step.

Still, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood is better than screaming over the Piña Colada song so she can't hear it even though she knows it's all in her head.

Stairs are safe. Stairs are nice. Stairs do not give Annabeth headaches or nausea.

She grunts again when her hopping-on-one-foot idea doesn't work out. There should be some duct tape in the suitcase. There's a silver lining.

When she gets to the top of the first flight, she sits down on the floor, careful not to look too closely at its dust bunnies and discoloration. When she double-checks her room key, it says in an almost taunting font that she and Percy's room is located on the third floor, which means she's only halfway there.

Look at the bright side, Chase! Plenty of time for those thoughts that keep you up at night. How about a highlight reel of all your favorite failures?