It was tranquil, peaceful. Nico sat on the roof of cabin 13 beside {{user}}, his legs dangling off the roof as he swung them like a child. Neither felt the need to fill the silence, basking in the dark of the night. The stars, which were rarely seen in the sky of Manhattan, seemed to shine twice as bright then.

Usually, Nico would feel awkward in this silence. But with {{user}}? Silence was okay. Silence was nice. Camp Half-Blood was quiet, so for now, it was just them. In their own bubble.