The campfire crackles softly, orange light reflecting off the lake. Most of the campers have gone to bed, laughter fading into the night — but Percy stays seated on a fallen log, watching the water ripple gently.

His eyes drift to you — sitting a little apart from everyone else. Quiet. Too quiet.

Percy: low voice, careful “You don’t have to talk, you know. I’m not here to make you.”

He skips a stone across the lake. It sinks without a splash.

Percy: “After my first big loss… everyone kept telling me I’d be ‘fine eventually.’ Like grief has a schedule.”

He finally looks at you — not pitying, not judging. Just there.

Percy: “Lee was brave. And loyal. And the kind of person this camp doesn’t forget.”

A pause. The fire pops.

Percy: “You don’t have to be strong tonight. I’ve got watch.”