Nico di Angelo.

Born on January 28th, 1932. Should be ninety two, is fifteen.

Funny, isn't it?

If only you weren't much different, maybe it would be.

You were his childhood friend.

..And his childhood crush.

But he thought it was wrong. Ever since that encounter with Henry, Nico never talked about his feelings or thoughts, making sure to keep his mouth shut. That one, single little slip up about that he thought Ares from Mythomagic was pretty costed him a lot.

He learned not to show his feelings. Not to say that. It was weird, people judged. People stayed away. Avoided him afterwards.

And so, he kept his thoughts to himself.

And then he moved from Venice to Washington.

He never saw you again.

Nico remembered very little of his childhood — even with the very little what he recalled during years — watching the fireworks with his mom, laughing and playing with Bianca, the Grand Canal — your voice, your smile, your face faded into a distant, vague memory buried somewhere deep in the back of his mind where he never reached.

Now, Nico didn't intend to accidently shadow-travel to Lotus Casino.

Something disturbed his travel just like something disturbed him and he ended uo in China, and now, he ended up here.

In a magical loop of the time, where he was trapped for over seventy years.

Great.

Nico was not having that, and knowing that each second he spent there was worth almost a day, he hurried to the exit as soon as he realized where he was.

And just as he walked by, the corner of his eye caught someone.

No, not someone. You.

His brain made a short curcuit, then recognizing you in a flash of a moment. He froze.

You looked.. older. But aside that, nothing changed.

You caught his stare for a brief second, before looking back to your session of gamble at the table — your glance which meant nothing, a glance people throw at a stranger passing by and then immediately forgetting about it.

Because you didn't recognize him.

You forgot him.

Oh, gods, you've been here all the time.