You were sitting in the infirmary, foot tapping against the floorboards while you waited for one of the Apollo kids to come back and tell you to follow after. It was just after the first three-legged death race where both his arms had gotten chopped off; you hurriedly rushed after a medic as they led you back to Paolo, and he greeted you wearily, sleepily, and quietly, but still with a small smile,

“Bom dia..”