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bodytoflame-ao3 · 4 years

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the world keeps turning -- part 2

aka the ‘oh my god they were roommates’ fem!percy fic prompted from @percyyoulittleshit and turned into a disaster by me

Part 1

AO3 Link

two // january

It’s all in the name of scientific research, she tells herself. Annabeth has a hypothesis: She likes girls. (Most specifically, Percy Jackson.) Despite the fact she’s already reconciled with the concept, she feels the need to make sure. She’s far from the life of the party, but she figures a house full of drunk high-schoolers is her best bet for testing that hypothesis. And she’s right — it doesn’t take her long at all to find a group playing spin the bottle and squeeze her way into the circle.

She’s never played, but it’s easy enough to grasp the concept by the time the neck of the bottle ends up pointed in her direction. He’s cute. Curly brown hair, light brown skin just a bit darker than her own golden tan, and a crooked smile. Although she doesn’t know his name, he isn’t a bad kisser in any sense. His confidence heightens, and Unnamed Boy rests a hand on her thigh; she can feel his touch heat up her skin. She smiles as he pulls away, trying not to laugh at the blush creeping up his face.

The game continues, until it’s her turn. It lands on a girl she vaguely recognizes from her math class. Jenna? Julia? Something like that. She laughs, “Okay, smarty pants, let’s see if you’re as good at kissing as you are at geometry.”

See, Annabeth understands shapes. They’re real. Concrete. Constant. They can’t have negative values, or any of that nonsense that comes with regular math. They're physical things, things she can touch and feel and look at from every angle, and everything she needs is right there on the page and bound by the rules of the universe. Sure, sometimes there’s fractions and variables and things she knows are put in just to confuse people, but she can work around that. The numbers. The shapes. Their relations. It all fits neatly together; just the way she likes it.

Jenna/Julia is as good at kissing as she is at geometry, which is to say, not great. Whether that’s just her, or the alcohol, Annabeth can’t say. But it doesn’t matter. She still enjoys it, because between her short black bob and bangs, she can almost pretend it’s Percy. Her lips taste like vodka and peppermint lip balm, and Annabeth silently wonders what Percy would taste like. That’s enough confirmation for her theory.

She leaves pretty quickly after, trying to cope with this new revelation. It's not like she didn't know. It's that this made it real. By the time she makes it back, it's not late, only 9:30, but Percy’s waiting in the cold at the door when she returns home. Annabeth really doesn’t want to have to face her right now. “Where were you?” Percy's eyes go wide, giving her that stupid puppy dog face that she’s still not sure is intentional or not.

“Party,” Annabeth shrugs, sheepishly, as she hangs her coat and scarf on the hooks near the door.

“You didn’t answer any of my messages.”

“I got distracted.” She continues towards Percy’s — their — room, desperate to avoid eye contact with her for as long as she can.

“You’re lucky mom and Paul went to dinner, they would’ve freaked out.” Percy trails after her, stopping as Annabeth, without thinking, pulls her shirt off over her head and starts sifting through the dresser. “Are you drunk?”

“No, but I kind of wish I was.” She turns around, sticking her arms through a Camp Half-Blood t-shirt. Sure, she’s never been drunk before — she's never had the opportunity. But now seems like a pretty good time to change that, she decides, and she’s almost positive that whatever she’s currently feeling would sit a lot better if it was drowned in a bottle of alcohol.

Gods, that smirk. Annabeth was sure it was going to kill her one day. “I think that can be arranged.”

They’re lucky Paul has great taste in wine. Percy’s knows her mom will notice, but she’s also sure she won’t be too upset they’ve broken into the liquor cabinet. Because it’s Annabeth — Sally loves Annabeth — and she trusts Percy. If anything, she’ll be the most mad at them for actually having some taste and not getting trashed on something cheap.

Percy’s never been drunk either — two glasses in she feels like she’s floating on a cloud. Her thoughts are hazy and she’s feeling an inkling of regret in her gut, because she can’t stop her thoughts from racing anymore and all she wants is to tell Annabeth everything. It’s hard to think when she’s looking at her like... that.

“Another round, barkeep,” she laughs. Percy rolls her eyes and tops off their glasses with the rest of the bottle. They aren’t pacing themselves, and Percy is sure she’ll regret it in the morning, but in the moment, she just wants to feel something.

When Sally and Paul return around midnight, they find a very empty bottle of wine on the kitchen table; the kids passed out on the couch, Percy's arm draped around Annabeth. Annabeth's head rests in the crook of Percy's neck, against her shoulder, while Percy's found a cushion in Annabeth's blonde curls. The look exchanged between them is enough; Sally's silent 'I'll talk to them' earns a nod from Paul, who heads off to bed.

She shakes them awake and sits them down at the kitchen table. Just as Percy expected, she's not that mad — she feels like she kind of has the obligation as a parent to be angry, but acting on it is an entirely different story. Sally doesn’t have the heart to when they’ve been through so much.

“I know I should be pissed but... you’re not wasted and you didn’t drive anywhere. I know you’re both far beyond your years, and that’s not your fault, just... don’t do it again.”

She lets them go. As Percy stands from the table, she can feel herself sobering up quickly. Annabeth yawns, quickly heading off to the bedroom.

“Percy? Can I talk to you for a minute?”

She sits back down, bracing herself for some kind of grounding.

“So what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t like either of you.”

“Annabeth was upset,” Percy shrugs, “some school thing.” She doesn’t mention the party, for obvious reasons.

“I don’t even want to know whose idea it was,” she sighs, “I just want you to be okay. Both of you.”

“We’re okay, mom. We just ordered pizza and watched cartoons.”

Sally glances aside to the discarded pizza box and raises an eyebrow, because she knows — she always knows. “That’s it?”

Percy nods.

“You know you can talk to me, honey.”

She knows. “I’m okay.”

“Okay, Percy. Get some sleep.” Sally tosses her two water bottles from the counter, “and drink up, both of you. I’m not nursing your hangover.”

Part 3

#percabeth #prompt fill #fic #~1k words #percyyoulittleshit #multi #*theworldkeepsturning #annabeth chase #pjo #fem!percy jackson #fem!percy #wlw percabeth #made

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dotshiiki · 7 years

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CoL, chpt 5

Ahhhh thank you everyone who’s liked/reblogged/is following the story! I’ll do another quick thank you post in a bit to acknowledge you guys properly but let’s get this chapter up first shall we? :)

V: PERCY

Percy stared at the giant marble statue.

Neptune, they'd called him. Poseidon.

His father.

Or so they'd said, anyway. He studied the statue but it was hard to see any resemblance in a big marble bust. The best he could figure, it looked like the stone statue in Phoenix, the one of the fisherman from Percy's dream.

The past week had been disconcerting, to say the least. He was still trying to come to grips with what Annabeth and her friends had told him. Some of it fit with Bella's versions (they both agreed that she was an empousa, for instance); some of it was the complete opposite (demigods weren't the enemy—at least not his—but monsters, including empousai like Bella, were). Some of it was completely new: he lived in a magical enclave in the middle of Berkeley Hills that was a replica of ancient Rome, protected by a legion of Roman demigods.

Oh, but he was a Greek demigod and the only mortal son of a powerful sea god.

It was enough to make anyone's head explode.

The thing was, he suspected that if these demigods had found him instead of Bella, he might have been more receptive to what they were saying, the way he'd accepted what Bella had told him. Now, though, having to reconcile two versions of a story—especially when the first person to tell it had been conveniently killed by the others—made him question everything more.

I just want to go home, Percy's brain screamed. Except that according to these demigods, he was one of them, and he was home.

He just couldn't believe them. Besides being the complete opposite of what Bella had told him, he had an inexplicable feeling that he didn't belong here any more than he belonged in Phoenix. He'd been given a tour by a Chinese dude named Frank, who was apparently some big shot in the Roman legion. Certain bits about New Rome nudged at his memories, like he might have been here before, but as far as an emotional connection went—zip, nada, blank.

The room he was now staying in remained a mystery. The girl's sweater and the photo frame he'd broken had disappeared from it when he returned after his outburst on the first day—embarrassingly, he didn't have anywhere else to go—but he didn't know what to do with the rest of it. At least the clothes and armour fit him.

He met the various people in the pictures over the next couple of days, either in person or through that weird holographic system they called Iris-messaging. One time Annabeth set up a connection with a family in New York—the kind-looking woman with the toddler and a handsome man with shaggy salt-and-pepper hair.

His family, they told him.

Maybe he wouldn't have minded being related to them. Sally Blofis was warm and calming, Paul seemed decent, and Percy suspected their daughter, Joy, might be the source of the exuberant scribbles on his corkboard. The thing was, Percy looked nothing like Sally, so he couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that this might all be an elaborate hoax.

To make things even more complicated, an enormous kid with a single eye in the middle of his forehead had strode in at some point, giving Percy the shock of his life when he shouted excitedly, 'Brother!'

Apparently this monster wasn't an enemy.

The only time he felt like maybe the puzzle pieces were coming together was when he looked at the girl, Annabeth.

It was probably because she looked so much like Bella. Or what he thought Bella looked like—it was still hard to square the image of her as a vicious, misshapen demon with the pretty girl he'd known, the façade the demigods said she'd adopted just to seduce him. That was the story they were sticking with. After thinking on it, he had to admit that Bella's final words did make sense in that context.

He wondered how Bella would have explained the situation to him. But she hadn't gotten the chance to, had she?

Because Annabeth had killed her.

And she kept looking at him the same way Bella had, especially when she thought he wasn't paying attention: wistful and hopeful, like he held the key to something she wanted dearly. She never came out and said it, but Percy wasn't totally oblivious. She wanted more from him. He didn't know if in this version of events, they were supposed to have been a couple or she'd just wanted them to be, but either way, the weight of her expectations was stifling. Even if Annabeth was telling him the truth and Bella had been deceiving him, he didn't think he was ready to do this dance with another girl wanting his affections.

He sat down heavily at the foot of the altar and stared up at Neptune.

'If you're really my dad,' he said, 'and you're really a god and all-powerful and everything, maybe you could do something about this crappy sitch, you know?'

No answer. Of course not.

He was probably just going crazy talking to a dusty marble statue. Percy closed his eyes and sighed.

'Percy?'

He looked up. It was Hazel, the curly-haired African-American girl. She was accompanied by two other guys who made a startling contrast of dark and light. Percy recognised one of them as the olive-skinned demigod who'd shown up with Annabeth and Hazel in Phoenix. He still looked like he'd stepped straight out of a goth magazine: black jeans and t-shirt, black aviator jacket, black bangs that covered half his face.

His companion was a sunny blond with a faint dusting of freckles across his light skin. He wore a purple shirt emblazoned with the letters SPQR—the same letters etched into Percy's arm. The boy had a long, thin scar running up his forearm, but his skin was otherwise clean of any marks. However, around his neck was a leather cord with a row of beads. Percy's fingers reached up to trace the one he had around his own neck.

Hazel knelt so that her face was level with his. 'You okay, Percy?'

He thought about correcting her, then decided it wasn't worth it. Although he'd given them 'Perseus' as a handle, electing to keep the name Bella had bestowed on him, they kept calling him 'Percy' anyway, as though if they used the name enough, it would eventually mould him into the person they wanted him to be.

Instead, he turned to the pair of boys. 'Nick, right?' he said to the goth kid, sidestepping Hazel's question.

'Nico.'

'Right, sorry.' He looked at the other guy with a vague sense of familiarity. He was definitely one of the never-ending stream of demigods in that legion of theirs, but Percy couldn't place his name. He wasn't sure they'd actually been introduced.

'I'm Will Solace,' the kid said.

Hazel said, 'Look, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but you've been moping around for a week and Anna—er, I mean, no one knows what to do with you. I thought I'd try and ask. What do you want?'

Percy turned the question over in his head. What did he want? Well, his memories back would be nice, but he didn't think that was coming anytime soon. Besides that…

He just wanted to figure things out. To work out who he was outside of all the contradictory things he'd been told. Who Bella was. Who these demigods were. What was true and what wasn't.

'I want to try and put things together myself,' he said at last. 'Figure out what's real, you know?'

Nico nodded. 'Yeah, I get it. You want to know the truth, but you can't trust it if it comes from us.'

Percy stared at him in surprise. He hadn't expected anyone to understand. Everyone else seemed so taken-aback when he told them he didn't want any more people telling him stuff about him. But Nico spoke so matter-of-factly, as if Percy's wariness of them wasn't an insult.

Will rubbed his eyebrow with one finger. 'You know, in the ancient days, when people wanted to learn the truth, they used to visit my father's Oracle.'

'Your father—?'

'Apollo,' Will explained. 'God of—well, he's the god of many things, but prophecy is one of them.'

'Isn't prophecy, like, predicting the future?'

'Well, yes, that's the most common understanding of it. But the Oracle also answered questions about the past. It depends on what questions you ask.'

'That's not a bad idea,' Hazel said. 'Except we don't have an Oracle.'

'Wait—this Oracle…is a person?'

Will and Nico exchanged a look.

'Not exactly,' Will said. 'It's a spirit, but it speaks through a person. Back at camp—'

Hazel jumped in quickly. 'We do have auguries. Like omens and stuff—portents that tell us the will of the gods. They aren't easy to interpret, but maybe we could see if there's anything that might help you figure out what you should do.'

Percy turned this over in his head. It all sounded a little hokey, but then so did gods and magic and monsters. 'I guess it wouldn't hurt,' he said. 'Where's this augury?'

'Right next door,' Hazel said brightly. 'Come on.'

Percy followed Hazel, Nico, and Will to the largest temple on the hill: a sixty-foot marble structure dominated by an enormous statue of yet another scowling god. This one looked like he had constipation. Lightning flashed across its domed ceiling as they approached.

A skinny, towheaded girl wearing a toga was sitting cross-legged at the base of the central altar. She had her eyes closed and her fingers placed very precisely on her knees, like she was meditating. Scattered on the marble floor in front of her was an array of plush animals, all sliced down their bellies. Stuffing poured out in odd patterns across the floor.

'Ophelia,' Hazel said.

The girl's eyes flew open. 'Praetor,' she said solemnly. She looked at Nico and Will, and nodded in greeting. 'Ambassador. Legionnaire.' Then her eyes fell on Percy. 'Oh.'

Was oh bad? Percy couldn't tell.

Ophelia scrambled to her feet. She swept the stuffing to the sides of the altar. 'What—er, what brings you here?' There was a jittery edge to her voice. Although she addressed Hazel, her eyes kept darting to Percy and then quickly away.

'We'd like an augury read for Percy, please.'

'Perseus,' he muttered, thinking that if he was asking for a sign from the gods, he ought to at least use the right name.

Ophelia steepled her fingers and pursed her lips. 'You don't happen to have something I could sacrifice, do you?' She gave Percy another quick, nervous glance. 'Never mind. I can see that you don't.'

Clipped to the belt of her toga was a collection of plush animals, these ones intact. Hanging alongside them was a thin golden knife with a jagged blade. Ophelia removed her knife, tapped her lip as she considered the animals, and finally selected a seal with pure white fur. Raising it high above her head, she turned away from them to face the altar. Lightning flashed red across the temple dome. The ground shook as she brought the knife down across the body of the plush seal.

Its cotton guts were jet-black. The dark wisps of fluff spilled out on the altar of Jupiter. Ophelia's jaw dropped.

'That—that's never happened before,' she said.

'What do you mean?' Nico asked. 'What does the augury say?'

'It…well, the message is…okay, it's probably not sink a lone fountain; you'll be home free.' She made a face. 'I've got it: seek information by yourself: it is a hard journey. That part's normal enough. But the colour…'

They all stared at the black innards.

Percy felt like he'd just swallowed ash. 'That's something bad, isn't it?'

'Maybe not,' Will said lightly. 'Oracles aren't always decipherable.'

Ophelia glared at him. 'I'm not an Oracle,' she snapped, her earlier nervousness evaporating. 'You've come to the wrong place for that. And I've read the augury. Take it or leave it.' She crossed her arms like she was waiting for them to leave.

They stepped out of the temple. Clouds the colour of Annabeth's eyes had gathered over the hill during the ritual. They began to disperse, but Percy couldn't help seeing a sign in them, as ominous as the black stuffing. He didn't like the way Nico and Hazel were exchanging looks, like his impending doom had just been foretold.

'We should focus on the message you did get,' Will suggested. 'There's no point worrying about the parts of a prophecy—or augury—that don't make sense yet.'

'Seek information by myself,' Percy repeated. 'It's a hard journey. Do prophecies—or auguries or whatever—actually tell you anything you don't already know?'

'At least it confirms what you want to do, right?'

'Would be nice if it told me where to find information.'

'Well,' Hazel said, 'there is another place you could try. For information, I mean.'

'Where's that?'

'We do have a university. Maybe just learning about stuff—it could help you put things together. Why don't you start there?'

And so he ended up in the registrar's office at New Rome University, trying to muddle his way through a bunch of module transfer forms. Apparently he was a sophomore here and already registered in a bunch of courses for the semester. More signs that this was his life and he should probably fall in and accept what all the demigods were telling him. He had trouble seeing himself as a college student, though. Bella's version of him as a street kid felt more his size. The classes on environmental science and naval ship systems that he was supposedly registered in seemed like someone had went, oh, let's pick some random courses to pretend he actually belongs here.

None of the modules on his list got at the stuff he wanted to find out: what this whole Greek demigod thing was about, and how to trust who was telling him the truth when he didn't have any memories.

'Can I change these?' he asked.

'We're not keen on students making swaps this late in the semester,' the registrar said.

A girl at the other end of the counter looked up from behind a curtain of straightly-ironed brown hair.

'Oh come on,' she said, rolling her eyes. 'He's still within the deadline to drop or add classes.' She gave Percy a conspiratorial look. 'It's noon today, which gives you an hour. They're just trying to fob you off so they don't have to do the paperwork.'

'Fine,' snapped the registrar. 'I really don't recommend it, but if you're going to insist…' He slid a course catalogue across the counter, along with a set of forms. 'You're going to have to fill those in with your new choices. By noon. I'm not taking anything even a second after.'

'Got it.' Percy picked up the forms and the catalogue. 'Thanks,' he said to the girl. She winked at him.

OoOoO

Percy didn't mean to be late for his first lecture. He'd even gotten up earlier and braved the kitchen while Annabeth was still making breakfast so that he'd get to the university on time. But then he'd gotten distracted along the way by a guy with goat hindquarters who wanted some spare change. By the time he found him a handful of coins and made it onto campus, he was already five minutes late, and it took him another twenty to find the right seminar room.

As fate would have it, he walked in just as the lecturer announced, 'So that's when the dark-haired god of the sea first enters the fray.'

Half the class tittered. One girl in the front, with a regal posture and black hair wound smoothly into a long braid, fixed Percy with eyes like onyx—stern and unyielding. She wasn't laughing.

The way she was looking at him, she had to be a recent legionnaire. Percy was learning to pick them out simply by the way they reacted to him, as though in awe of a reputation he had no idea how he'd gained.

Frank said Percy used to be a Praetor—a leader of the Roman legion. After his tour of said insanely disciplined legion, Percy only felt like laughing every time he tried to imagine himself leading that group.

This girl's expression was less awe and more I got your number, so don't try to pull anything on me, though. Percy decided to cross over to the other side of the room, as far away from her as he could get. Whatever it was she knew about him, he didn't feel like dealing with it.

He slid into an empty seat behind the girl with the ironed brown hair whom he'd seen in the registrar's office.

'Hello again,' she said, amusement in her voice. 'Nice entrance.'

'Yeah, I live to entertain.'

The lecturer cleared his throat. 'As I was saying, Neptune stirred up the seas and made them impassable. Um, sorry, I mean Poseidon. Poseidon sank the ships of Odysseus—yes?'

The stern-faced demigod girl had her hand in the air. 'Dr Langley, isn't that more consistent with the Roman view? And the text says that Odysseus doesn't play a role until much later.'

'Um, yes, yes, of course, you're right—jumping ahead of myself, there. Nept—Poseidon was a temperamental god, and—'

'Seriously, I don't see why she's taking this course if she already knows so much,' Iron-Curtain Hair whispered to Percy.

It went on like that for the rest of the class: Dr Langley stumbling over an illogical account of the Iliad, peppered with interruptions and corrections. Percy was disheartened by the end of it; Greek Mythology 101 seemed to be as messed up as his memories.

Iron-Curtain Hair turned in her seat. 'Hopeless, isn't he? Be you're regretting switching to this. What did you drop for it?'

'Why did you sign up for it?' he countered.

She shrugged. 'It was something new. I think they started it because of that exchange programme the legion's making such a big deal of. You know, exchange of heroes, fostering friendships, yada yada. There was that big announcement by the senate a couple months back.'

'Um…'

'They probably should have gotten a real Greek to do it, though. Romans teaching about the Greeks…it's like the blind leading the blind.'

'Who knows, maybe he's just trying to show what the Greeks were like: messy.'

Iron-Curtain Hair laughed and held out her hand. 'I'm Jessica, by the way.'

He shook it. 'Perseus.'

'Perseus,' she repeated. 'That's kind of a mouthful. No nicknames?'

'I guess you can call me Percy.' He might as well stop resisting it. Clinging to 'Perseus' might be a way to hold himself separate from the identity the demigods wanted him to embrace, but it wasn't actually helping him to figure out the truth.

'Percy it is. Now, I'd guess you're from the legion, seeing as I've never seen you before, but you're way too funny for that bunch of wet blankets.'

'You're not from the legion?'

'Gods, no. I wasn't really interested in all that Roman hero stuff. Discipline and falling in line and all that jazz…bor-ing.'

'I didn't know you had a choice. I thought all demigods went to Camp Jupiter.'

'Well, yeah, if you're a full demigod. Like, actually half-and-half. But I think it was my great-grandparents who were? Anyway, I figure I'm more mortal than god anyway, so why bother?'

Percy felt a brief stab of envy. He bet his life wouldn’t be this messed up if he'd been practically mortal.

'So what's your story?' Jessica asked. 'Demigod or legacy?'

'Um, nothing much, really. I'm—er—a Greek demigod?'

She raised her eyebrows. 'You say that like you're not sure.'

For a moment, he considered telling her about his amnesia. Then he realised the amazing opportunity he'd been presented with here: to get to know someone on his own terms, someone who didn't expect him to be this Percy Jackson character with the past that everyone but him seemed to know. Someone who wasn't trying to claim him.

He shrugged. 'I don't really care about my heritage,' he lied. 'So what if I'm Greek or Roman or, I dunno, alien? And the demigod thing is overrated.'

Jessica grinned. 'We should definitely hang out together some time. You got a number I can call?'

'Um, I don't have a cell phone.' At least, he didn't think he did. He stuck his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

'You and every other demigod. You guys are like, allergic to technology. Well, never mind. I'll give you my number and you can call me from a landline or something.' She ripped a sheet of paper out of her notebook and dug in her bag for a pen.

Percy's fingers closed around one in his right pocket. 'Here, I've got one.' He pulled it out and flicked off the cap.

And nearly had a heart attack.

Instead of a ballpoint pen, he was holding a balanced bronze sword, which had nearly taken Jessica's head off.

'Oh my gods!' she screamed.

'I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't know—' He waved the sword around, then realised this was making the situation even worse. 'I swear, I didn't know it did this!'

There was a loud BANG and he jumped as a marble torso appeared in the middle of the seminar room.

'Rule-breaker!' yelled the statue. 'No weapons inside the Pomerian line!'

'What the hell?'

'I should be asking you that, young man!' With his muscular chest and forbidding expression, the statue-man would have looked like a threatening bouncer if not for his lack of arms. Or legs, for that matter—his lower half was nothing but a rectangular square.

The statue fixed beady eyes on Percy. 'Perseus Jackson. Just because you were Praetor once, don't think you can get away with a flagrant flouting of the rules!'

'I'm sorry—I swear I didn't know the pen was a sword. It just appeared!'

'Hmph,' said the statue. He looked long and hard at Percy, and Percy got the feeling that this statue, like all the other godly things around this place, knew something about him that he didn't. 'I suppose you do have some…extenuating circumstances. Very well. Put it in the tray and we'll call it good.'

A floating tray materialised next to the statue. Percy meant to drop the sword in at once, but something made him hesitate. He couldn't help but notice the way it felt in his hand, comfortable and perfectly balanced, like it was simply an extension of his arm. Maybe he didn't have a specific memory of it, but his body knew this sword. His fingers were reluctant to relinquish it.

But the statue was waiting. Percy dropped the sword into the tray, which elongated to accommodate it. With another speculative look at him, both statue and tray vanished.

Jessica cleared her throat.

'Sorry,' Percy told her again. 'Seriously, I had no idea.'

'Yeah, okay,' she said. Her voice sounded a little shaky. 'I'll, um, see you around, I guess.' She left without writing him her number.

Percy sighed and packed up his things.

When he got back to the apartment, he got a pleasant surprise.

The pen was back in his pocket.

Continue to Chapter 6 | Back to content page

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