You’re tired. Obviously.

Getting chased by cyclopes towards Camp Half-Blood at 4am, right to the entrance. Some archers took them out, but you almost had eighteen heart attacks.

You collapsed five minutes after you got in, getting taken to the Medic’s cabin. You were fed ambrosia and nectar the next morning, then ferried off to the Big House.

At 7am, after a glorious two and a half hours of sleep, you sit between a centaur and the God of Wine, Religious Ecstasy, etc, who’s playing… Pinochle?

“Where are we—“ Chiron was cut off halfway through his sentence, a glare shot at him by the old man wine God.

“No need for the Hermes cabin. They’re one of mine.” He says it so casually. You are just shocked. Old man Mr. D is your father? The tour guide— some guy named Conner?— was telling horror stories the whole way to the Big House.

But the overwhelming feeling you have is beating this man up for breaking your mother’s heart. It was a drive-by, the night you were concieved, a real fuck-and-go from this old man.

Also, the wine coloured port wine stains all over your body, just neck and under, might’ve been a giveaway.

Do you want this God to be your father? Well, your mother’s husband, Alex, isn’t a bad man. He’s been their for you for your entire life, going to all your school events, chaperoning out of school events.

Compared to Alex, Dionysus is an asshole and a half.