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Percy refused to blink first.
Silence blanketed the classroom, heavy and uncomfortable and stunned. His ethics professor—and wasn’t an ethics professor teaching in New Rome of all places painfully ironic—stared right at him in disbelief and Percy refused to blink first.
The projector flickered, and the last slide of Percy’s presentation blinked in and out of view.
In conclusion, it said, training child soldiers is inherently morally wrong.
Percy’s professor finally blinked. Percy did not. He took the full weight of all his contempt and disapproval and exhaustion and pushed it into his gaze and he did not blink.
At least, not until a smattering of applause broke out from the back corner. A glance showed Grover clapping happily, pretending for all the world he didn’t feel the tension in the room.
And leaning on the wall behind him, clapping just as enthusiastically, was Dionysus. Percy finally stopped staring at his professor, and instead started staring at the god. “What are you doing here?” Percy distantly noticed his classmates turning to see who’d gotten a rise out of him. “And why are you clapping?”
Mr. D shrugged. “If you brats were adults,” he answered, “I wouldn’t be stuck running your summer camp.”
A pen hit the floor. Several students started whispering. Percy’s ethics professor’s brain was smoking, probably trying to figure out if he could still give Percy a bad grade, even though a god was agreeing with him.
That was the downside to being a devout Roman—the answer to that was a big fat “no.”
“You’re sure there’s no other reason you’re stuck running my summer camp?” Maybe pissing Dionysus off wasn’t the best move when his admittedly flimsy support was the only thing saving Percy’s grade, but at this point the banter was second nature.
And, predictably, a dangerous smile grew on Mr. D’s face. “Of course not, Perseus. But perhaps you could enlighten me as to what reason this University may have to send me letters regarding your behavior?” Grover didn’t burst out in uncontrollable laughter, but it was a close thing, if the pressure in Percy’s lungs was any indicator. A look at the satyr’s face confirmed—he was slowly turning red and there were tears in his eyes from holding it in.
Miles, damn him, started smirking in the front row.
“What behavior would that be?” Percy asked, feigning concern.
“‘Starting fights, getting physical with other students, and a fervent lack of respect towards the institution and its authority.’ Color me shocked,” Mr. D droned.
“I mean. Did you expect anything different?” Grover asked, wrinkling his nose. “It’s Percy.”
Dionysus raised an eyebrow, impressive deadpan in place. “Of course not. Zeus himself hasn’t managed to wring an ounce of respect from him. I’m more curious as to why they reached out to me.”
“Clearly, the school greatly respects your position of Camp Director.”
“Perseus.”
Percy met the god’s wine dark eyes and prayed he was in the mood for some ‘yes, and’. “I was defending Grover.” Dionysus took just a second too long to reply for Percy’s tastes. “You know, the Lord of the Wild.”
“That’s me. Hi.” Grover smiled and waved.
Mr. D nodded. “I’m well aware. My good friend, the Wild. What of him?”
When they were done here Percy would be dumping a whole bottle of the most expensive wine the dollar store had to offer into a fire for him to enjoy. “He’d been assaulted, Mr. D. And you remember, of course, ordering me to defend him with my life.”
The drama queen genes run deep. Grover’s desk sprouted vines that both reached inward to wrap around him protectively, and outward to ward off threats. Percy inhaled the scent of grapes fresh from the vineyard, and beneath it lay the heat of madness. Dionysus’ eyes flickered with the glass of a shattered bottle as he glanced around at Percy’s classmates.
Miles had sunk suspiciously low in his seat.
“Perhaps I heard you incorrectly.” The Wine God spoke, and beneath his words ran the threat of a stampede. Everything in Ancient Greece was lethal, especially the parties. “My dear companion Pan has faded. His successor’s safety is my top priority. And you tell me it has been compromised?”
Ten drachma on another puddle, Percy thought at Grover. His amusement twitched at Percy’s eye.
“I wouldn’t say that, Mr. D. I took care of the threat. The school merely thought I went…overboard.”
Dionysus laid a hand on Grover’s shoulder. “Overboard?” He repeated it quietly. “Your methods, overboard?” He looked down at Grover. “You’re alright, my friend?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“And still you will not allow me to assign my Maenads to guard you?”
“No, thank you.”
Mr. D harrumphed. “You were my compromise, Perseus. I still think you are too soft. Perhaps I shall have a chat with your school’s board. See if they would prefer my Maenads.” With that, he disappeared, leaving behind the scent of grapes and vines that smacked anyone who got too close to Grover.
Two, Percy decided. Two bottles of the dollar store’s finest wine.