CW: As the chapter implies, another medical scene (stitches, blood)

Percy comes back to the hotel with a bag of those tasty pretzels, ready to apologize to Annabeth for whatever he may or may not have done. This is fine. She just needed some alone time after throwing a borderline tantrum. She probably calmed down and stitched up her face all by herself and then maybe took a nap or called Will and now she's totally fine and normal and ready to talk about things rationally. Maybe she even cleaned the blood off the counter.

He opens the door, ready to sing something silly like, Honey, I'm home! except he does not sing that because the room is completely trashed. It's like Annabeth hosted a raccoon family reunion while he was away.

It looks like that family of raccoons got into a squabble over their competitive yard games. Percy gathers the white sheet from the floor and sets it on top of the unmade bed, noting that the fitted sheet is missing. Everything smells kind of funky like the family of raccoons weren't very good at cleaning up after themselves.

"Annabeth?" he calls. Maybe he can draw her out with treats. "I brought all these pretzels and I have nobody to eat them with."

No answer. That plus the horror movie-esque spots of blood on the off-white carpeting tell him something terrible just happened. What else is new?

"Annabeth, it's just me," he says after knocking on the bathroom door. The water isn't running, so the worst-case scenario is he walks in on her changing and says "OOPS," before slamming the door and forgetting that ever happened.

"I'm coming in," he warns. He turns the knob and peeks in the door. Is she even in here?

The trail of blood leading into the bathroom tells him that yeah, she is. Is that new blood?

"Are you alright?" he asks. "I uh... Sorry for upsetting you earlier." It's certainly not the best apology, but it's better than I'm sorry that you're upset. At least he's owning up to some kind of fault, although he's not sure specifically what he did.

Finally, he sighs and enters the bathroom, careful not to step on any more fluids than he would like to come in contact with. Is that barf?

The mystery of the missing fitted sheet is solved when he looks down into the bathtub and finds Annabeth wrapped in it.

Like an idiot, he stage whispers, "Are you sleeping?"

A hoarse voice from below says, "No."

"Okay," he says. "Are you bleeding?"

The lump in the sheets moves, scaring Percy half to death before Annabeth looks up at him, her face mostly covered by the sheet, which is pretty bloody. He thought he'd gotten that bleeding to stop, but maybe he didn't put the stitches in well enough.

It also looks like she might have tried to pull the thread out, but he won't bring that up.

"I brought pretzels," Percy says, holding up his to-go bag. "They've got all kinds of crazy flavors."

She sniffles, and with one look at her runny eye makeup, Percy realizes that she probably hasn't stopped crying yet. "Hey," he says, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says. Her voice cracks, although Percy's not sure if it's because she's hoarse from screaming or trying not to cry. He concludes that she is not fine.

"I'm just tired," she adds, rolling over in the tub.

Percy tries to smile even though he's pretty sure there's more to it than that. It's okay if she doesn't want to talk about it. "If you give me the sheet, I can make the bed for you."

"No thanks," she says, rolling back over in the tub and staring at the beige tiling on the wall.

He winces. "Respectfully, I don't think sleeping on a bare mattress is a good idea. I didn't get a chance to look at the reviews online for this place, so..." He trails off, hoping she'll get the idea. He's not about to say 'bed bugs' out loud when the risk is so apparent.

"No," Annabeth says. "It's... This is going to sound weird."

"It's fine," Percy says quickly. "Whatever you need, I'm here for you." He has no idea what it is she could need, but he does know that no matter how big the ask, he'll be there.

She finally sits up again. When she rests her head against the tiling, the sheet betrays her, showing Percy the bloodiness on her cheek.

"Hey, those stitches came undone," he says. "Not that they were very good in the first place."

"Shit," she swears. "Will put a med kit in my backpack if you want to do it right this time."

Percy feels incredibly guilty for not knowing about this an hour ago because he's not sure the needle he stuck in Annabeth's face was clean.

"I'm sorry I pulled them out," she says, wiping her snot on the sheet. Maybe Percy will find a linen closet and replace that fitted sheet. Hell, he could get some extra blankets for when he inevitably spends another night on the floor.

"It's alright," he says, finding his train of thought. "I shouldn't have forced it."

"Except you should have," she says. "I was a dumbass."

"Annabeth, I went out for pretzels instead of attacking the problem. Let me be sorry," he insists.

"I don't blame you for leaving."

That's a weird thought that he'd rather not unpack, so instead, he leaves. Well, he leaves, finds Annabeth's backpack, and then comes right back with the medical kit.

She looks up at him, somehow managing the weight of the dark bags under her eyes. "This is going to hurt like a bitch." Her laugh is unsettling, like some kind of anti-hero taken hostage in a superhero movie.

"I can't say I've ever had stitches to the face," Percy admits. "I'll do my best though." He puts a generous glob of Aquaphor on his finger. It's funny how Annabeth's tattoo solution serves an extra purpose. He regrets ever feeling annoyed by her tattoo-in-every-country goal. "May I?" he asks, holding the goopy liquid near her face.

She swallows and nods.

His fingers make contact with her cheek, feeling where the sharp tooth broke the skin. Suddenly very aware of the intimacy of this situation, Percy quickly applies more Aquaphor and traces the rest of the cut towards her jaw. Her soft face is an odd contrast to her tough-as-nails personality, although Percy supposes she has a shiny new cut on her face to match.

"You don't think it'll scar, do you?" she asks, barely moving her mouth. "I don't think I can stand to look at myself like this."

"It's kind of badass," he notes.

"I look like a monster."

Instead of answering, Percy reaches into the medical kit for the stitching material. "You ready?"

She nods, giving him the green light to pull out the rest of her Frankenstein's monster stitches and put in the Will Solace-approved ones.

Annabeth takes in a breath at the first poke, which excites Percy more than it concerns him. She didn't do that earlier. She didn't have any reaction to having her skin punctured earlier; she was too busy kicking and screaming.

He ties off the knot and cuts it with the scissors. Scissors! Wow, he was going at it the wrong way earlier. It's a good thing he didn't go into marine veterinary practice.

So he tells her; he cracks a joke.

She smiles and then winces.

"Sorry," he apologizes quickly.

"S'okay."

"You wanna hear something weird?" Percy asks.

She doesn't react, not that she can without it hurting, so he takes her lack of objection as a sign to go on.

"I saw my dad." He ties off the next stitch and cuts it.

In the short time she can move, she says, "You're fucking kidding."

"Nope." He pokes her with the needle again. "He... Well, he actually had a lot to say; he gave me a starfish in a jar. Its name is Zebediah."

She tries to keep from laughing but ends up coughing from the pressure in her chest. Percy drops the needle because he'd rather not hurt her, and then he's laughing too because she looks a little silly with the thread hanging from her face.

Before reaching for her face again, he says, "Poseidon also called it an asshole."

He reaches for the thread again and gets back to work. "Almost done I think. He had a message for you too though."

"Mmm?"

"Yeah, he said Hades was giving that guy hell down there. I think he meant the Underworld, but who's the guy?" Percy asks.

Annabeth looks up at him and then down at her lap, a storm brewing in her stormy grey eyes. For a second, Percy thinks he's about to get punched for asking such a touchy question.

Then she says, "The hell if I know."

He supposes she's right. Gods have a way of saying things nobody understands, so he leaves well enough alone.

"Do you... Do you want to talk about earlier?" Percy asks. "I feel awful about what happened."

"It's fine," she snaps. Her shoulders drop, and then she asks, "Can you... Can you just distract me?"

"Uh..." That's not exactly the answer he was expecting. "How so?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Jackson," she teases, feeling the stitches on her face when he ties off the last one. "There should be a deck of cards in my bag if you want to play."

"Sure," he says, searching the pockets for the cards.

Annabeth shuffles the cards against the side of the tub while Percy pulls over the plastic stool. Hopefully, it can sustain his weight long enough for a few games of Go Fish.

She deals the cards with ease rivaling a casino dealer, dotting some of the cards with bloody fingerprints. Percy has to fight the urge to make a joke about the possibility of her having worked as a casino dealer. For all he knows, she has.

He clears his throat and asks, "Do you have any kings?"

"Yep." She passes him the king of hearts and Percy pairs the cards off and sets them down on the floor.

They don't talk except to ask about each other's hands. Percy would rather not press her about whatever's bothering her; he just wants her to know she can tell him. She can trust him with anything; he hopes she knows that.

He swears she's cheating at this game though. That feels like a daughter of Athena kind of thing.

By the time Annabeth beats him at least four times over, his eyes are heavy. "Well," he says, patting his denim-clad thighs before standing up, "we should probably think about getting that bed made before I'm too tired to swipe some sheets from down the hall."

"Sorry 'bout that," Annabeth says, squirming her way out of the fitted sheet.

"It's okay. Are there pillowcases somewhere?" Percy asks.

"It's better if we don't talk about those."

"Seriously, Annabeth, what did you do with the pillowcases?"

She presses her pointer fingers together and winces. "I might have thrown up in them."

"Are you sober?" he blurts before he can think.

She hugs the fitted sheet and says, "Yeah. Yeah," as if convincing herself. "My stomach was just upset. Did you say you had pretzels?"

Percy just laughs and looks through his things for the pretzels. "I'll trade you the pretzels for the sheet."

"Are you sure? It's kinda nasty."

"It's all part of my plan."

Annabeth cocks the eyebrow on the untainted side of her face. "So you're the one with the plans now? I think I could get used to this."

"I'm not sure you'll like this one," he says. "It'll give you a distraction while I'm sleeping though." If Annabeth isn't going to sleep, that's fine, but Percy needs his rest if they're going to be on the move tomorrow—either to Prague or back to New Rome, he's not sure.

He helps her out of the tub and figures there's no time like the present to ask. "Hey, so my dad said... Well, we don't have to finish this quest if you don't want to. We can go home tomorrow and get a party from Camp to do this."

"Seriously?" she asks. For a minute, he thinks she's going to agree to go home. It'd be a lot easier for her. Hell, it'd be a lot easier for Percy too, and Will could have some more time to hang out with Nico, and Nico would be less grouchy because he'd be spending more time with his boyfriend. It's like a chain reaction.

"Yeah, seriously. Poseidon says the Erotes aren't that threatening; they're not working for anyone who is."

"They? As in..."

"As in more than one, yeah, so I told him we've only seen Pothos," Percy says. "He didn't seem so convinced."

"Yeah, I have to side with you on this one," she says. "Let's keep going though. I've got nothing to lose. I want to kick Marty McFly in the balls, and I'm truly curious."

"That's the spirit," he says. "I think."

After all this time, she's still prideful, although he hopes it isn't fatal by any means. Something about seeing this flaw makes Percy happier than it should. Sure, it should be disappointing to find that Annabeth Chase still hasn't gotten over herself, but knowing that there's a difference between pride and dignity is reassuring. This woman who just admitted to barfing in the hotel's pillowcases still thinks she's the hottest shit around.

Percy's willing to keep her around just to see if she's right.

"So," Annabeth says, "what's this distraction you've come up with for me?"

Percy raises an eyebrow. "There's a laundry room down the hall." He gives her some money for detergent and the pile of sheets he's collected. He can manage on the bare mattress for a little while; he's too tired to care.

Annabeth reaches for his wallet before he can put it back in his pocket. She retrieves a paper bill and waves it around with a flourish. "A tip," she says, even though Percy knows very well that she will spend his money on soda from the vending machine.

She all but skips out of the room despite pretending to hate her new distraction, slamming the door behind her.

Percy waits until her humming of an old Avril Lavigne song fades before opening his laptop. He still has a lot of papers for his online class to grade, but that's not what he logged on for.

He opens the search bar and types in TATTOO NEAR ME. He can't have Annabeth's pride wounded just because she can't get a tattoo in every country.

Below him, Zebediah the starfish rests in his saltwater-filled jar, out of sight and out of mind.