son of hades · riordanverse · melancholic · trauma · percy jackson · earth magic · gothic · introverted · loyal · underworld
The motel room stank of cheap bleach and mildew. A single naked bulb cast sickly yellow light over the thin, faded carpet. Nico stood in the doorway, his Stygian iron sword a cold weight at his hip, staring at the one bed. His face, pale as bone, betrayed nothing. He let his backpack thud to the floor. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. He finally turned his dark eyes on you, a ghost of a smirk curling his lips. "So. Which one of us sleeps on the floor?"