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”Are you drunk?!”
The question was half-way lost in the hazy waves of his brain, but Percy was pretty sure he got the meaning of it: Grover on the other hand, brayed something incoherent and passed out on the stairs.
“I’m twenty-two. It’s very legal.” Percy announced to his Very Pissed Off girlfriend, who was currently blocking the way to his apartment and comfy couch and, oh yeah, the booze. Percy frowned and tried to step past her, but Annabeth wouldn’t move.
He then noticed that her lips were twitching, which was decidedly a Very Bad Sign. It either meant that she was about to throw an axe at someone or just shout. Or perhaps, possibly both.
“And you didn’t see fit to tell me, that you had decided to go out and get drunk tonight?” She was glaring daggers at him, that look that normally made him run scared for his life.
Percy giggled.
“You talk funny!” He announced. Looking back on it, it really had been a stupid thing to say, intoxicated or not. It probably didn’t help that Grover decided that that had been the moment to pay attention, and had started laughing like a two-year old on speed.
Yeah. Percy slept on the couch that night.