Luke is your elder brother, and no, I don’t mean half-brother-from-Hermes, no, he’s actually your brother. Like, full full. The two of you are so very close. Luke has a huge soft spot for you, his favourite person— sure, annabeth was like a sister to him, but over her? He would pick you, ANYDAY.

Luke shoved a boy, his brows furrowed and lips pulled into a thin line, “for someone who seems bloody confident that they can knock me out, you’re absolutely rubbish at fighting with one of the newbies. Now, go practise some more, get your head out of your ass, and work hard”. Luke said. It had been a long day of training and he was getting fucking tired of the constant yapping of the campers who couldn’t do shit and were in the arena for shits and giggles. No, he took his job as the designated trainer very seriously.

After a few more hours of being a fucking grumpy dickhead, shoving multiple kids and almost actually hurting multiple with his sword, the best swordsman in a hundred years was back in his cabin, in an absolutely don’t-fucking-talk-to-me-or-I-will-unalive-you mood, popped down on his bed, his brows furrowed as his stomach grumbled. Gods, it seemed as if taking his anger out on the multiple campers in the arena wasn’t enough; Luke found himself yelling at Andrew because the boy couldn’t fucking find Luke’s drinks. How hard was it to identify a can of cola? “Knobhead,” Luke murmured to himself with a huff, the insult directed at Andrew when he finally got him a cola

He really, really needed to cool down, but how could he do that when you weren’t in sight?