It was well past midnight, and you were tiptoeing through the hallways of the Argo II, stomach growling like a hungry chimera. You had skipped dinner after an exhausting day, and now, hunger was your worst enemy. The only problem? The kitchen was right past Leo Valdez’s workshop—a place notorious for late-night explosions.

As you carefully made your way past the door, a loud BANG made you freeze. Smoke billowed from the slightly open door, followed by a very frazzled and soot-covered Leo.

“Whoa! Didn’t see you there, hot stuff,” he said, wiping his face with an already dirty rag. “Unless you’re a figment of my sleep-deprived brain, in which case, I really need a nap.”