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Camera Three at Chef Jackson

A timer rang through the kitchen and Brown called out a dramatic, "30 minutes on the clock!"

His pine nuts were burning.

"Your other left, Jackson!"

He knocked over the pepper. "You've been hogging time."

"If you would grab the right herb, we would have gotten to your dish already."

He mimicked her in a whiny voice, reaching for the arugula. Annabeth's arms, sandwiched behind her back and his stomach, writhed until she was able to pinch him.

"Keep that up and your portobello sauce is going to hell."

She grumbled something but made fists of her hands. "Splash the red wine in there."

They had to lean so he could grab the bottle and not for the first time, he shot a glare at the all too smug Clarisse at her station. She did have the disadvantage of having to prep her dish on the Earthshaker Table, but she had oh so graciously bestowed the gift of partnership upon him half way through the round. He and Chef Chase had to become each other's arms, cooking the other's dishes from behind until the ten minute warning. While he had initially paid no mind to the woman, but it was hard to ignore her when she was purposely ruining his spiced butter right in front of him.

"Stir it or it'll burn!"

He blew a strand of her hair from his face, chin resting on top of her head so he could see. "Save my pine nuts first."

"Who even uses pine nuts in pappardelle?" she snapped, unwinding her arms and whirling to hug him from behind. "They're way too bitter."

"That's what the spiced butter was going to counteract before you ruined it," he grumbled, shuffling with her to his station.

The poor nuts were crisped to the point of no recognition, black char on the bottom of his pan. Annabeth had to crane her neck over his shoulder to see, arms weaseled between his. If his entire dish didn't depend on her ability to follow directions, he would have laughed at the sight of slender arms working for him. Only the dish did depend on her and she was not willing to listen to him.

"The noodles need to be strained."

"While I get that," she poured more pine nuts into the pan. "I'm going to help you out a bit."

He backed them away, looking out of the corner of his eye to glare at her. "I didn't do this when you were cooking, just do what I say."

"When I was cooking, I knew what I was doing."

"I am not just a pastry chef, I know what I'm doing too!"

"Oh ho!" Clarisse whooped, a pink flame bursting from her pan. "Trouble's cooking in paradise?"

"Shut up," they growled in dissonance.

He could see the cameras swinging around, very much interested in the animosity brewing between the chefs. He envied Hazel; the New Orleans restaurant owner was happily chugging along without any sabotages or attention seeking banter weighing her down. She met his eyes with a sympathetic smile, quickly returning to her dish.

"Now what?"

Percy surveyed his station, flour and batter and butter splattering every inch of the surface. "Put the chicken on high heat, add more lemon juice to it."

Her hands worked quickly and efficiently and he was very sure to stand still as she sliced another lemon. Not that she needed his stability, she had been ready to prep on the Earthshaker. Either that or her poker face was top notch, no emotion having passed over it as he debated who to give the sabotage to. He chose La Rue because of their argument off camera, before the show had even started. It had felt so good, even if he was 5,000 dollars lighter and she repaid him soon after.