WHITE NOISE , percy jackson [1]

TWO

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Milan really hadn't expected himself to be out on the porch of the Big House, acting like he had something better to do than help the plants grow in the strawberry field, yet here he was. He drummed his nails, now painted black thanks to Hua and her siblings in the Aphrodite cabin, against the railing. Annabeth was with him on the porch, and she seemed almost friendly today.

"Mily, should we deal you in?" Mr. D asked. He was shuffling a deck of cards, knowing full well that his son was awful at pinochle. Even Annabeth laughed as she heard Dionysus speak.

Chiron, fighting a smile, shook his head. "Now, Mr. D. I was hoping Milan would help Annabeth show Percy around camp."

Milan and Annabeth knew why he was really there, though: Annabeth could be rather intense and often unwelcoming, so Milan was supposed to be the nice one. He could make it work. He was widely regarded as a nice person when he wanted to be.

Dionysus just sighed heavily. "Ah, I suppose you're right. It's a shame my own son can't even play a proper game of pinochle. I daresay that makes him less civilized." Despite the fact that Dionysus outwardly seemed disappointed, it was common knowledge that he had a soft spot for his children. Even though he hated most heroes, his own heroes were the exception.

     Milan scoffed, but there was a wide smile on his face. "I know the rules," he stated. "Isn't that how you judge whether people are worthy of your presence?"

     "You may know the rules, but you certainly can't apply them in a way that's favorable for you to win," Dionysus said. There was the tiniest hint of a smile on his face, and Milan knew his father at least found him a little amusing.

     Annabeth, meanwhile, didn't look too happy. "Where is he? I swear, he should be waking up any minute now..."

"Right, because coma patients always adjust to your schedule," Milan joked drily. He took a deep breath, looking out at camp again. The way the sun hit his skin, even on the covered porch, and the way the smell of the strawberry fields drifted toward them, was all a welcome feeling.

That was when a murmured conversation could be heard from the other side of the porch. He recognized the voice of Grover, and he figured Grover had been the one to go out to protect Percy. Milan looked over to see Percy looking at everyone, and Grover whispering things, presumably telling him who everyone was. As if on cue, Percy walked forward. "Mr. Brunner!" he called.

Ah, so that was Chiron's pseudonym. It really did scream middle-aged Latin teacher. Milan continued to stare at Percy as Chiron said, "Ah, good, Percy. Now we have four for pinochle."

Those words barely registered in Milan's brain as he sized Percy up. Percy was rather scrawny, but so was Milan. It was the sea green eyes that caught his attention; they reminded him of the Adriatic Sea during low tide, when he could walk out onto the coastline and stare at the seemingly infinite green. In a sense, Milan was also jealous; his own eyes were a deep brown, almost black.

He was torn away from his thoughts as Percy took a seat to the right of Dionysus, who looked at Percy with his bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh, as if this was the most inconvenient thing that ever happened to him. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you," he stated.

"Uh, thanks," Percy replied. Milan had to stifle a grin as he watched Percy scoot his chair a little further from Dionysus. New campers' reactions to his father were always funny to him; he was used to the way his father could be.