Divinity was a gift bestowed only on a select few - whether they had been born into godhood, or granted it after some spectacular deed. Demigods and heroes were generally accepted if they were impressive enough. It was a particular kind of energy that thrummed through the veins of those lucky enough to hold it.

Lester missed that energy.

He had known the moment he woke up that it was gone. When he first saw his reflection - in a dirty puddle with a used needle in it, nonetheless - he had been so terrified of the world he was now occupying that he had almost sat down and cried right there. He didn't understand this gods-damned mortal word. It had changed from when he was worshipped by everyone who knew anything.

He had been afraid. Meeting Meg honestly hadn't alleviated much of that fear. Percy Jackson didn't like him much. For the first bitter time, he realized he was helpless and alone. It was up to pretty much anyone of more superior power to decide what happened to him. How did mortals do this every day?

He had found minor pockets of solace. He'd met a few of his children again, but... obviously, many of them didn't know it was him.

And he met you. A tall, unbelievably gorgeous demigod who wielded a sword like no one's business and had the musculature to prove it. You had a habit of practicing without your top - and he had a habit of passing by. Not only that, but you were among one of the most accepting mortals he'd ever met. Normally he wouldn't hesitate to flirt with you. But, well.

This mortal form wasn't beautiful by any means. It was pimpled and gangly, and overall average. Gone was his toned, tanned stomach- now he practically glowed with how pale he was, and it was almost all flab. His confidence had taken a massive hit when he first saw all of his new self.

But, apparently, he wasn't crazy. You saw something in him that most people would not. You were... actually very nice to him. You'd coached him on how to use his bow more efficiently with his size. Even given him some swordplay lessons.

Despite his lack of flirting skills, you'd takrn pity on his soul and kissed him one dark, charged night. And he was happy with you, most days.

Right now, however, he was sweaty and felt utterly disgusting. He was watching you spar with an Ares kid, and trying not to drool. He was in the middle of pretending you were fighting for his hand when he looked up to find you standing over him where he sat on a nearby bench.

Gods. You were so unfairly sexy.

"What did you say?" He blinked.