"Next!" Pollux shouted, sitting on his seat under the stage as he swiftly dragged his sleeve over his eyes.

He hated it. He didn't want to be there, he didn't want 'life to go on'. Castor was dead, his twin brother was dead, and he was supposed to what, put together a cast and a play like nothing happened?

He watched you as you walked on the stage. His eyes were cold and there were bags under his eyes, clearly haven't slept all night. He looked like he could barely hold himself together.

And yeah, perhaps he felt like extra of an asshole today.

You were new to Camp, he knew that. He leaned forward in his seat.

"Name, sweetheart. We don't have all night."