PERCY POV

I expected his hair to be ratty, bloodshot eyes, and to have a hangover. What I saw made my mouth curve into a scowl. Instead, his hair was professionally slicked back, and he showed no symptoms of being drunk last night.

I almost left, worried that this wasn't the same man. But his eyes stopped me. After all of these years, his piercing-blue eyes stayed the same. They weren't the soft and gentle blue Luke and Jason had. No, they seemed to have a pillar of ice in each pupil, that bore into your soul, the kind that looked.. hungry.

"What do you want?" Octavian's steely voice breaks me out of my trance. I gulp, but force myself to stay strong. I jab an accusing finger into his chest.

"I want to know why, on April 19th, you were drunk driving." I snarl, my eyes peering into his. He pushes away my finger.

"What's it matter to you?" My face flushes in anger.

"My girlfriend," I swallow, my breath catching in my throat. "Died because of your driving, ass!" Octavian's face has not changed a bit.

"Was that your girl? Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss. You know, that gave my car stains." He sarcastically replies, while flicking some invisible dirt off of his shoulder. My vision sparkles red with murderous alarms. I clutch his shirt and bring him up to my face.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Octavian. Now, answer the question. Why were you drunk driving!?" For a second, fear creeps into his face, but it's chased away by his usual arrogance. He shrugs.

"What do you think? Big party, alcohol, yadayadayada. The real question is, what were you doing out there?"

My face turns pale and I drop him. Octavian smiles wickedly. He knows he's hit a nerve.

"Oh, didn't think I'd notice you, pretty boy? Even when I'm drunk, I can still see a fighting couple." He chuckles, giving chills down my spine.

"Stop it! It was still your fault! The light was red!"

"Maybe, but from what I saw, it would never have happened if you hadn't led her into the streets."

"Stop it!" I can't think of anything to say right now.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Percy, why are you blaming me? It's obvious that you're the reason for your girl's death."

"Stop!" I feel like a teenager again, his words feel like cold hands slapping me. I keep remembering all those times, where I was too helpless to do anything but tell him to stop. And now, even with a muscular body and an older mind, the cycle repeats itself again.

"This conversation is over." He spits. The door is slammed shut.