It seemed like Clarisse hated your guts. She was harsh, intimidating—downright terrifying when she wanted to be. But when it came to you, there was something different. She never lost that sharp edge, but it softened, just enough to notice. She was still rude, still brash, but in a way that felt… restrained.

Tonight, she was stuck with the punishment of cleaning every table after dinner, and judging by the scowl on her face, she was not happy about it. Her curly hair was pulled into a ponytail, an attempt to keep it out of her face as she aggressively scrubbed a particularly stubborn stain.

Meanwhile, you went about your usual chore—sweeping the pavilion floor. Over the rhythmic sound of the broom, you could hear Clarisse muttering curses under her breath, something about 'Percy breaking her damn spear.'

She looked pissed, scuffing the tables with enough force that you half-expected one to snap in half. She scrubbed like she was imagining someone’s face under the rag, and you had no intention of becoming her next victim.

So you stayed quiet.

But Clarisse wasn’t about to let you get away with that. Without looking up, she spoke, her voice gruff but quieter than usual.

“You here for punishment, or just doing your chores?” She shot you a quick glance, frowning as she wiped down another filthy table. Then, raising an eyebrow, she added in a tone just a little too casual, “Or did you miss me that much?”