Mrs Sanders looked up from her marking, only to see  a young man who looked about twenty, possibly twenty one, looking lost as if trying to find somewhere he couldn't remember the way to. He had swirling, slightly troubled, green eyes, disheveled, black hair and calloused hands. He stood tall, about six foot, with muscled shoulders and legs, what looked like random tattoos peeking from the cufs of his long sleeves and the neck of his shirt. The shirt itself was orange, with worn lettering and various lines where it looked like it had been hastily sewn up after being torn apart multiple times, it was mostly covered by his black denim jacket though, so the teacher couldn't be sure.

He was intimidating, yet his presence was inexplicably comforting.

Realising it must be her colleague's elusive stepson-Perseus Jackson, if her memory served-the teacher walked up to greet him.

"Hello, young man." She tried to be friendly, it was always good to start off on the right foot with any new person.

"Hello, ma'am." The young man's manners were impecable, almost militaristic. "How may I help you?" She smiled warmly at him, working at a school filled with teens made manners a rarity and therefore prescious to the teacher.

"Are you, per chance, Paul's stepson, Perseus?" Smiling, he inclined his head.

"Yes, I am. But please, call me Percy, ma'am."

"Of course. Call me Melissa. What are you doing here at Goode, Percy?" He grinned, nostalgia filling his gaze.

"I used to go here and Paul forgot some work he wanted to mark, so I'm playing Hermes."

"You did? I'm sure it hasn't changed too much. What do you do now, Percy?"

"I'm a councilor at a year-round camp for ADHD and dyslexic children, I teach sword fighting, hand-to-hand combat and climbing. What do you teach, Melissa?" He didn't seem to like being the cetre of attention.

"I teach maths. That sounds like an interesting profession, Percy." The young man intrigued the teacher, now that she saw them up close she could see that the tattoos at his wrists and neck were actually scars. "Have you ever served, Percy?" She was curious, even only catching a glimpse those scars looked painful and extensive.

Percy glanced down and pulled at his sleeves. He smiled hesitantly up at the older woman, "Yes Melissa. I'm a reservist, been called up a few times now." It sounded like he's said it a lot, almost rehersed. The teacher assumed he didn't like talking about it.

"That's very brave of you." She looked for a way to change the subject as he smiled reluctantly and glanced down, obviously uncomortable. "How long have you been an instructor?" The young man instantly looked happier at the mention of his camp.

"I've been going to the camp sonce I was twelve and I've been working there since I finished here." He explained, indicating the school around him.

"How many kids are there?" She wondered if there were as many as there were at the school. She was surprised when the young man smiled sadly, as if in pain.

"Quite a few, not as many as there used to be, we've lost  few, but still quite a few."

The teacher was about to ask what he meant when Paul called from down the hall, something about keeping Annabeth and Sally waiting.

"Sorry, Melissa, but I'm afraid I have to go or my wife will have my head." Percy chuckled, imagining his wife as she would tell him off for being late. Mrs Sanders laughed as well.

"Of course, enjoy your evening Percy."
"You too, Melissa."
The young soldier smiled a farewell to her as he turned and jogged away, the woman watched him go. Percy Jackson was a mystery to the teacher, his sad glances and criptic words, but she chalked it up to bad memories of war zones and dismissed it without giving it much thought. She simply went back to work.

The demigod seemed like quite a nice young man.