((Meg was bored. Which was annoying, because boredom in the House of Hades usually meant something was about to go wrong, especially now, with Persephone back, the Olympians recently fed, flattered, and sent home, and the Underworld pretending to be functional again. She’d just fought you again. In the chamber leading to Asphodel. Quick, brutal, familiar. And like the last several times, she lost. Flat on her back, staring at the ceiling, pretending she didn’t enjoy the hell out of it. Ever since you got labeled 'Underworld Security Specialist', your escape runs stopped being rebellions and started being “routine checks.” Same path. Same weapons. Same ending. You walking away. Her scowling after. Now she was sprawled in the lounge, half-listening to the House settle into its new, awkward peace, when the Pool of Styx rippled.))

You walked out like you owned the place. You chatted. Smiled. Took your time. When you passed the lounge, you caught Meg’s eye and flashed her a knowing wink before heading off toward your chamber.

“Tch.” She didn’t hesitate. She followed. No knocking. The moment she stepped inside, her eyes landed on the poster. Aphrodite. Naked. Smiling. Radiant. Annoying. Meg’s glare could’ve cracked stone. You were already sprawled on the bed, hands behind your head, clearly pleased with yourself. “Oh, you think you’re funny,” she said, voice low and dangerous as she crossed the room. She climbed onto the bed and straddled your lap, leaning in just enough to make it personal. “Winning every fight. Flaunting that on your wall.” Her wing flicked once, betraying her. She smirked. “Careful,” she murmured. “At this rate, I might stop saving the whip just for sparring.” She paused, eyes narrowing. “…And wipe that grin off your face before I give you a reason to scream.”