"O Fleecy," Hazel said, feeling like a total moron, "Do me a solid. Show me Reyna at Camp Jupiter."
Reyna had had a very long day, and was looking forward to going to the bathhouse. However, she didn't feel like socializing. This, combined with her rank as praetor, meant she was alone. Was it wrong to abuse her power? Probably. But, she hastily justified to herself, she hadn't really kicked anyone out. She'd waited until they all left.
She ignored the fact that anybody else sneaking into the baths would be sewn into a sack of weasels and thrown into the Little Tiber.
Reyna passed the frigidarium and the tepidarium; walking straight for the caldarium. Tradition be damned. She wasn't spending any time in the cold or warm baths. She needed something hot to relax her muscles.
Reyna sighed in contentment as she slid into the pool. The hot water against her tired skin and aching muscles was heavenly. She slipped under the water, wetting her hair before reaching over to the ledge to grab her shampoo.
Hazel was greeted to the sight of Reyna in the baths, rubbing shampoo into her scalp and humming softly to herself. Her eyes were closed.
"Reyna," Hazel said.
Reyna shrieked, her eyes flying open. She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to cover herself, which was unnecessary. Firstly because Reyna's hair covered her chest when not confined to its usual braid. Secondly, because baths were social places for Romans. People would go with friends, perhaps get rubbed down with fragrant oils before leaving.
"What is the meaning of this?" Reyna said, attempting a controlled voice and failing miserably.
"Reyna, it's serious," Hazel said, forcing the shit-eating grin off of her face. "There's an army… there's cyclopses and centaurs lead by this giant."
Reyna's face was mostly empty of her imminent panic. "I had assumed as much. I am doing my best…" Reyna trailed off and sighed, and she looked so sad for a second. Then, the mask of the praetor had returned.
"Percy thought so," Hazel said. "Isn't it a little late to be in the baths?" she continued a heartbeat later, shit-eating grin returning in full capacity.
Reyna put on her best, most serious, "I am the mean, scary praetor and daughter of a war goddess" face, but the affect was dampened by the shampoo bubbles in her hair. Hazel's grin widened.
"Why, praetor!" Hazel gasped in false innocence and shock.
"I don't suppose we can keep this between us," Reyna said.
Hazel's response was another grin.
Reyna sighed, "Name your price."
"But it would be my duty as a Roman to report; to share! We are a community…"
"Nobody will ever believe you," Reyna promised.
"How do you know Iris-messages can't record?"
"Iris-message," Reyna grumbled. "Is that what this monstrosity is?"
"I think it's convenient."
"Very well," Reyna said. "Back to your quest!"
Reyna slashed her hand through the message in what was supposed to be a grand, sweeping gesture; as if to remind Hazel that she possessed power, elegance, and prestige. Again, the shampoo bubbles did not help with the image.
Hazel cackled, reminding herself for a terrifying second of witches and gris-gris, before pushing the thought from her mind. Instead, she chose to dwell for a perfect second on the shocked expression on Reyna's face.
"Thanks a billion, Fleecy," she said, grinning from ear to ear.
Fleecy beamed at her sincerity, and Hazel realized that this was a pretty thankless job.
"Always welcome!" Fleecy said. "And if you ever need an Iris-message, you can get me directly! Any time!"
Reyna groaned, putting her face in her hands. Maybe Hazel would get some Percy-like amnesia and forget. The thought of that was both so enticing and stupid that she sank down into the hot water, running her fingers through her wet hair, and trying to think of anything but what had just transpired. Just as long as Octavian never found out…