Bianca was dead. Did Nico want to accept it? No— I mean, his sister died. Who would want to accept that?

And Nico was grieving. Hard and badly. It took you two days to get this boy out of his cabin just to at least get some fresh air. He couldn’t rot and perish in his bed all day.

“Why are we here again?” He leans down to sit next to you on the bare ground, kicking the pebbles in his way. “It’s way comfier in the cabin than out here.” Of course. Like always, as always.