Nico

I returned to my building around ten. I stepped off the elevator and started down the hall. When I reached my apartment, I was quite shocked to find a girl curled up asleep at my door. 

She had long, dark hair that fanned out around her face in knots. She wore a disheveled lilac dress with a large, mysterious stain across the front. Unsure of what to do, I nudged her with my foot. She stirred and muttered several incoherent words, but didn't wake up. I knelt down beside her and tapped her shoulder. "Excuse me, Miss? Are you okay?" I whispered. The woman's eyes slowly opened. With a groan, she pushed herself up and sat back against the door.

"What do you want? Who are you?" she grumbled, her words slurring together.

"I'm Nico di Angelo, I live here. Are you okay?" I replied, offering the woman my hand. 

She swatted it away, "I'm fine, I'm fine." 

"Who are you?" I asked. 

"Thalia Grace," the girl answered. She pointed further down the hall, "I live down there."

I raised an eyebrow, "Then why are you asleep on my doorstep?"

She shrugged, "I don't know." She paused and smirked, "I tend to find myself in a lot of situations like this. Confused, tired, probably drunk. I guess it comes with the job."

"What job?" I asked. 

She chuckled, "The job of being Queen of the Street Rats, of course."

I blinked, "Queen of the Street Rats?"

Thalia nodded, "Yep. I'm the best card counter in the city. I go from bar to bar, playing poker with anyone who's desperate enough to try. I always bet big. Eight hundred, nine hundred, sometimes a thousand dollars. Of course, I always win. I cheat. But, when you're out of money, you're desperate. And most of those poor suckers are desperate enough to play the best cheater in town and pray that they win." 

"You really shouldn't do that," I told her. "It's wrong to take advantage of them."

She focuses her icy blue eyes on me, "Boy, many times in life, you're going to find yourself in situations where you have to do something to survive even if it isn't right. It's a test of morals and survival. If you're smart, you choose survival. If you're kind, you choose morals."

"Can't you just be kind and smart?" I asked. 

Thalia sighed, "Not always. You can get to a point where you have to choose between one or the other. You don't get the privilege of being both." I stood there for a moment, pondering her words. I can't believe I'm writing this, but I think that drunk woman at my door had said some of the wisest words I'd ever hear. 

My journalist instinct kicked in, and I automatically wanted to know more about Thalia. I sat down cross-legged on the floor opposite her. "How old are you?" I asked. 

"Twenty five," she replied. 

"How long have you been Queen of the Street Rats?"

"They started calling me that when I was twenty one."

My eyes widened, "Twenty one?"

"Yep," she answered. "I was young."

"Don't you have a job?" I inquired. 

She shook her head, "I used to have one, before this. But, I lost it. I tried to find another one, but jobs are in short supply these days. I ended up resorting to my last option: cheating in poker and stealing."

I cocked an eyebrow, "You're a thief as well?"

"Indeed I am," Thalia responded proudly. "One of the best in New York. I mostly stick to pick-pocketing and shoplifting."

"Don't you have a family who could help you out?" I asked. 

She shook her head, "I don't like to talk to my family. Or visit them. Or think about them." 

"Bad relationship?" I guessed.

"I don't want to talk about it," Thalia muttered. 

"Oh, right," I answered. We sat there in an awkward silence for a few minutes. Finally, I stood up, "Well, can I get into my apartment now?"

"Ah, right," Thalia said. She pulled herself to her feet and started down the hall. "See you around, di Angelo," she called over her shoulder. 

I opened my door and entered my apartment. It was still a wreck, but I was too tired to care. I flopped across the bed and let out a loud sigh. I glanced at Hazel's letter on my bedside table. I sat up and placed it on my lap. I gently traced Hazel's perfect penmanship as I scanned the letter. 

I thought about writing her back. But what would I tell her? About my evil editor that hates me? About how I befriended the imbecile that hit me with a bike? About how I met my drunk neighbor after finding her asleep at my doorstep? I sighed and tossed the letter back onto my nightstand. Maybe you should just wait until your life in New York becomes glamorous and then write her, I thought. But, I knew that my life in New York wasn't going to be the fabulous life of beautiful living spaces, endless parties, and new friends that I pictured. I laid down and closed my eyes. I was asleep in less than ten minutes. 

I woke up to the sound of rain pattering on my window and thunder rumbling outside. With a groan, I rolled out of bed and got ready for the day. When I stepped out of my apartment, I was surprised to see Thalia leaning against the wall opposite my door. 

At first, I didn't recognize her. She looked completely different from my previous encounter with her. Her hair was curled into two victory rolls on either side of her head. She wore bright red lipstick that nicely complimented her blue eyes and fair skin. She was dressed in a navy blue frock with a pair of matching black oxfords. She hardly resembled the drunk woman asleep on my doorstep.

She smiled at me as I exited my apartment, "Hi, Nico."

I blinked a few times, "Thalia?"

"Didn't recognize me, did you?" she said as she approached me. 

"You just look so-" I gestured to her clothing, "-different."

"Good different or bad different?" she asked. 

"Good different," I answered. "Why is the Queen of the Street Rats all dressed up?"

"I'm going shoplifting," she answered. 

I raised an eyebrow, "You're dressed up to go shoplifting?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

She grinned, "Because when the store finds out I've robbed them, the police don't come looking for a pretty little dame in nice clothes."

"Not a bad idea," I commended. 

She pulled a cigarette from her skirt pocket and lit it. "So, where are you going?" she inquired as she placed the cigarette between her lips. 

"To work," I responded. 

"Where do you work?" Thalia asked. 

"The New York Times," I replied. The color suddenly drained from her face. "Are you okay?" I asked. 

She shook her head, "Fine, fine. Just, uh, can you do me a favor?"

I nodded, "Sure."

"Don't talk about me." she said. 

I raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"Don't talk about me." she repeated. 

"Um, alright," I agreed. "Why not?"

"You know, I don't want my name to end up in the paper. Reporters can be nosey, I'm sure you know," she responded hastily. 

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine," I said. 

She smiled, "Thanks." She turned and headed back down the hallway, "See you around." I watched her as she walked down the hall and disappeared into one of the doors somewhere at the end. 

My mind filled with questions. Why didn't Thalia want me to mention her at the paper? I mean, I probably wasn't going to, but still. Why did she get so worried all of a sudden when I said I worked there? I shook my head. I didn't have time for this. Right now, I had to focus on getting to work and not pissing off Mr. Zeus. I turned and sprinted towards the elevators.