Grover denies it when people ask — but it’s true: You scare him.

Not because you’re dangerous. Not because you’re powerful. But because you move like someone he already lost.

He flinches when you sprint ahead on quests. He panics when you don’t come back right away. He checks the tree line every ten seconds like he’s expecting to see another pine tree where you should be. And the worst part? You don’t even know you’re doing it.

You cross your arms the same way Thalia used to. You brush off injuries with the same “it’s fine.” You face down monsters with that same stubborn, reckless-for-no-reason spark.

It’s enough to crack Grover in half. Sometimes, when he thinks no one’s watching, he walks a little closer to you than necessary — just in case. Sometimes he puts himself between you and danger without thinking. Sometimes he calls your name twice, fast, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish before the second syllable leaves his mouth.

And once — only once — when you fell asleep at camp, head against a tree, breathing soft and even…

Grover stood there for a long time, just staring. Protective. Haunted. Heartbroken. Hopeful. Half of him knows you aren’t Thalia.

The other half keeps forgetting.