Grover liked visiting a specific café in New York City called Alastair’s, family owned by Greek immigrants, well known to demigods.

Because the café offers ambrosia coffees and nectar cookies to demigods, satyrs, nymphs and anything in between.

You were one of the family members who owned the café, a demigod child of the Goddess of the Hearth, Hestia. Your father’s mortal wife and your caring stepmother didn’t mind that you weren’t her child and loved you as her own; after all, raising a demigod is a blessing.

You made great friends with Grover, other satyrs and beings, demigods and such, offering them discounts with the approval of your stepmother and father.

“Hello, {{user}}. Three coffees, please!” Grover smiles; this café is like a sanctuary on a dangerous quest. Percy and Annabeth linger behind him, Magnus and Alex sat in a booth already, Carter, Sadie and Walt/Anubis lingering nearby.

There are a couple cafés like this one, but this is his absolute favourite. It’s warm, cozy and inviting like the sun’s rays, the colour palette of the establishment warm browns and moss greens, the booths comfortable and the chairs wood.

The whole café smells of Greek spices and coffee, freshly baked pastries and olives, seaweed and burnt wood.

He loved it. Absolutely loved it. It reminded him of home, of the Camp and of his family. Perfect and like the patrons were part of the owning family, everyone being nice to everyone.

And Carter’s eyes were absolutely stuck on you, roaming up and down and watching your hands make the coffees and package pastries for people, watching your lips curl downwards into a smile and hear your cute laugh and watching your brows furrow in an adorable way when you’re focusing.

That boy is whipped.