It was a small mistake—no one got hurt, thank the gods—but it left the Argo II worse for wear. Splintered wood, scorched edges, and the sharp tang of smoke still hung in the air. But none of that spared you from the backlash. You’d wanted to prove yourself, to show them you deserved to be here. Instead, you ended up confirming what they all already whispered behind your back: just another clueless, unclaimed demigod.

Percy was already clearing the wreckage. He lifted a few broken planks off the floor and tossed them into a growing pile with a tired grunt. “I’m busy, {{user}},” he muttered, not looking at you. Another plank clattered on top of the heap, louder than it needed to be.

Then he paused, holding a warped metal plate in his hands. His shoulders rose and fell once before he turned halfway toward you, eyes sharp.

“{{user}},” he said again—this time firmer. He lowered the plate. “You caused damage to the Argo because of a mistake that never should’ve happened. All you had to do was pay attention.”

His words stung more than the actual accident. You opened your mouth, but he cut you off with a quiet, disappointed shake of his head.

“You could’ve stopped it. You should’ve.” His voice dropped, quiet but heavy. “But you didn’t. So what you’re going to do now… is help clean up.”

Then he turned his back to you, going back to work without another word—leaving you standing in the wreckage, the silence pressing harder than the scolding.