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Grover found himself sitting across from the school dean, sandwiched between Percy and Miles, and distinctly uncomfortable. Righteous indignation that was not his danced up his spine, and he knew this was not going to be an easy meeting.
His job was mostly to sit between the two as a buffer and look mildly repentant. After all, Percy was the one in trouble. Grover was a poor student who managed to witness a fight. Nothing else.
The mostly healed scrapes on his palms didn’t matter here. What mattered was that Miles didn’t feel safe around Percy, or some bullshit excuse like that. The kid was poorly hiding a smirk whenever he glanced between the dean and Percy. Grover bit his lip to keep himself grounded and in the moment, and not in his imagination where he was using Miles as fertilizer for his garden.
Grover tuned into the argument Percy was in the middle of. “You really want me to apologize to some asshole who hasn’t grown out of his middle school bully phase? What, are you scared I hurt his feelings? Did he throw a tantrum at you to get us in here?” Percy scoffed. “Not a chance. This is the real world. You ask me, he’s lucky I’m nice enough to teach lessons first, decapitate later.”
The dean scowled. “Death threats will not be tolerated in this school, Mr. Jackson.”
Percy rolled his eyes. “Why not? Scared your child army will miss its front line fodder?”
The dean just sat and stared back at him, eyes wide in disbelief. Miles looked startled as well, clutching his Legion brand like it would reassure him that Percy was wrong.
Percy took advantage of the silence. “Have you ever heard of the Maenads, sir?” Grover felt the stirrings of a tickle start in his nose. No. No, he knew what that meant. Percy was up to no good, forming some mischievous plan, despite the fact that Grover was allergic to Percy’s pranks. Oh, Percy was going to owe him big time by the time this meeting ended.
“—Dionysus’ cult of murderous worshippers,” Percy had continued as Grover came to his horrifying realization. “Very protective of him and his, you see.”
“I fail to find the relevance of your story, Mr. Jackson,” the dean intoned, trying to appear recovered and in control. Grover’s eye started involuntarily twitching. Percy’s face was a mask of innocence, and if Grover’s allergies hadn’t clued him in to Percy’s plan, that alone would have.
“Well, you see, sir, Pan was a great friend of Dionysus. And my friend Grover, here, is Pan’s successor as Lord of the Wild. You know that. I believe Mr. D put it in his file personally.” Percy paused, but nothing clicked in the Romans’ heads. He shook his head and kept going, “I managed to convince Mr. D that a guard detail of Maenads was unnecessary, sir, however—he wouldn’t just leave Grover defenseless. Absolutely refused. I’m to protect him with my life, you see. Mr. D would accept no less. And I felt Miles here was a threat. I could say I’m sorry for threatening him, of course, but it would be a lie, and even worse, it may convince Dionysus that I’m not taking my responsibility seriously. I would just hate to be the reason a plague of rabid Maenads descends upon your campus, sir, but if you’d like me to risk it…” Percy trailed off with a shrug.
He winked at Grover as he turned to Miles, and if Grover was enjoying this any bit less than he was, he’d have scowled. But despite his allergies—despite the tickle in his throat and his stuffy nose and his twitching eye—Grover was thoroughly entertained.
Percy caught Miles’ eye and held it. Hands clasped in front of him, face passive and resigned, he started, “Miles, man, I am very—“
“Stop,” the dean ordered. Satisfaction bloomed in Percy’s eyes while Miles whipped around to look at the man. “Keep your apology. Keep those Greek cultists out of New Rome. And keep your defense of Mr. Underwood within school guidelines or we will be having a long conversation about your place here at this university.”
“Of course, sir.” Percy turned to Grover. “After you, My Lord.”
Oh, that’s it. Grover was going to kill him. Before now, it had been funny. Yeah, sure, Mr. D totally wanted Grover protected. But that was too far. Percy and Grover walked wordlessly, side-by-side down the hallway to the elevator.
Percy pushed the button. He put an arm through as soon as the doors opened the whole way and bowed at Grover. “My Lord,” he said, deepening his voice and doing a half-decent impression of Chiron.
Grover stomped a hoof on his shoe and hopped inside. Percy stumbled after him, cussing and limping.
The elevator doors closed. Grover glanced at Percy. Percy looked over at Grover. A few long seconds passed where self-control outweighed the sheer absurdity of the situation, and then were over.
They bust out laughing. Percy doubled over, actual tears rolling down his face. “I’m oh so special to Mr. D, huh?” Grover squeaked.
“You’re his best friend,” Percy managed before cracking up all over again. “He can’t live without you.”
“He just really needs me to get rid of his Diet Coke cans,” Grover cried. At this point Percy was howling.
They managed to compose themselves before the elevator doors opened at their stop. Grover rested a hoof on top of Percy’s foot before he could move. “Call me ‘My Lord’ again and you’ll lose a toe.”
Grover did his best to stride out of the elevator, so he could have a cool dramatic exit, but Percy just snickered and followed him.
“Mrs. O’Leary beat you to it.”