Percy Jackson hates your guts.

That's something you've heard ever since you came to camp. And over the years, the feeling has grown mutual. Through every quest, every battle, every war, it seems like he would never save you... like he would even want you dead.

But now, as you lay on the deck of the Argo II, your eyes flutter open... to see the sun shining brightly, much too bright... to see the others gathered around, all hoping you'd wake up...

...and to see Percy tilting your head back, nose pinched, and performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. You had been knocked off the ship in a fight against a massive sea monster, and he had dove in the water right after you.

His mouth moved against yours desperately, trying to blow air into your lungs and begging to the entire Greek Pantheon that you were going to be okay.