Chapter 3: In which Malcolm uses his social skills (Part 4/5)

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Following a brief, mutually flattering conversation with Reyna over each other's good calls out on the battle they'd led six years ago, Malcolm meandered with his thoughts once more.

Both Clarisse and Chris had changed, he reminded himself. So, too, had Leo, who apparently had been a bit of a douche to sweet Frank—the Canadian, of all people! Even Annabeth, who'd been unbearable at times with Rachel in the picture—unbearable enough for Malcolm to have once snapped at her face in Percy's defense—had changed. Hell, Malcolm knew he himself, too, was already a less judgy, contrarian asshole (WIP). So, yes, he concluded—for the nth time—that Calypso could change, too. But that didn't by any means make them friends.

For the rest of the night, Malcolm paced his mini meals and avoided the dance floor, where campers moved to the latest earworm promoting codependency.

Bae, he noticed, was almost always surrounded in a three meter radius by ladies—with gents lingering nearby.

Malcolm wondered what those girls giggling over Bae had thought. Because, in his mind, Camp Half-Blood, boasting some of the hottest of the hottest men and women, couldn't be represented by a normal distribution. It only made sense that the distribution would be skewed to the left.

And still, amongst the crowd of demigods and nymphs and satyrs, it was impossible not to notice the two outliers in attendance.

First, there was Rhode: an arresting vision from her curled hair to her heels that left one to wonder how long she could last in them. The real showstopper, however, was her chiton-like jumpsuit—which truly would have looked normal were it not for the slits that stretched from ankle to waist and left her skin bare.

Without an ounce of Malcolm's consent, the most outlandish, uncalled for questions wormed into his brain. Questions like: How the hell is she even wearing underwear under that? Or isn't she? But, of course, he wasn't a swine, so he wasn't going to think about that.

Naturally, the other outlier was Aphrodite, who… well… who now twinned with Rhode.

Ehh. Okay. Malcolm wouldn't have disagreed anyway. He was self-aware enough to know what qualities he admired in a person. Capture the flag had already been one thing, but brunch hadn't helped either.

Despite their heels, Rhode and Aphrodite opted to sip champagne and eat cake at a standing table, where one of Aphrodite's attendants was fanning her.

With the two just out of his peripheral vision, Malcolm heard Aphrodite gush to Rhode: "They've always been so adorable and so in love. I've been looking forward to this day for years, I'm telling you!"

"You were so kind, helping to put this together," said Rhode. "It's shaping up to be such a lovely day to remember."

"I still remember your engagement party," said Aphrodite, " and your wedding."

"Do you?" said Rhode. "Wow. That was a long time ago. That's really flattering."

"You two made such a gorgeous couple," Aphrodite said.

Though Malcolm assumed Aphrodite must've resembled some other people by now (Bae or whomever), he pictured Rhode being complimented by her mirror reflection.

"I'm still honored that you attended," Rhode said.

"Your lipstick caused quite a stir, didn't it?" said Aphrodite.

Rhode laughed. "I'm sure yours did, too," she said. "So, I appreciate everyone could see you with it, too."

"How fortunate Helios and Ares never made a fuss about such nonsense," said Aphrodite.

"I do think people generally cared less than mortals, though," said Rhode. "At least when comparing Atlantis."

"That is true," said Aphrodite. "Ugh, these mortals. And now they still can't get over forgoing bras? Really, I don't understand. But we always have been ahead of the times, haven't we?"

"Some one has to set those trends," said Rhode.

"Alithós," said Aphrodite.

"Propíno soi."

Champagne flutes clinked, and Aphrodite and Rhode exchanged their favorite lipstick shades and memories with "Cleo". When Aphrodite began to complain to Rhode about Olympian drama that Malcolm simply could not give a hoot about, he directed his attention elsewhere as he tried to get by moment by moment.

To Malcolm's left, a daughter of Aphrodite, Rosalyn, was laughing with her friends, Alice, Shannon, and some others he didn't recognize. He listened to them comparing Manhattanhenge photos they'd taken the day before.

Then there were Connor and Travis, who bragged to some Romans about their upcoming fireworks display.

Malcolm spotted Rhode again—this time in the thick of a lengthy chat with Chiron and Dionysus, who for once didn't look like he didn't want to be at camp. It wasn't that he was hitting on her by any means. He just looked… normal. Which was weird.

While Malcolm was in the midst of another round of olives, head of city stats Chiara Benvenuti introduced him to her friends, and he gladly tooted her horn for ten minutes about all the incredible things she was doing for everyone.

Shortly after, Malcolm saw Bae shaking Rhode's hand. Malcolm read "I'm sorry" from her lips and "No! Don't be" from his. Something something Alexander from her. A speechless, beaming Bae eventually managed to say thank you. Something something flowers. Something something… loud forex? Cloud forex? Cloud forest?

"That's one of my favorites!" Rhode exclaimed to Bae.

They talked about waterfalls and mist.

Malcolm swept his eyes across the dining pavilion again, debating whether to (or how much to) judge the drunks and that one person who'd thrown up. Thankfully, that camper received aid from her siblings, because he did not want to deal with that.

More rounds of food, more rounds of walks.

After a couple tiring conversations, Malcolm rewarded himself by heading to the bar area and ordering a virgin strawberry daiquiri. Just as he wondered if whoever had set up the bar knew that the couple being celebrated didn't even drink alcohol, the daiquiri came. The ice, he found, helped with the summer heat, and he was even pleased enough with the taste to be irked at the wastefulness of the cocktail umbrella. At least it provided some entertainment, as he could now study the construction of the paper parasol.

"Nice jeans," he heard behind him. "I said nice jeans. Hello."

Malcolm turned around and came face to face with Rhode, accompanied by what looked like an iced coffee. Up this close, he could now see she gained some inches on him.

Malcolm swiveled his head round again and saw no one. He faced her again.

"Are you talking to me?" he said.

Rhode laughed and glanced at his jeans. "They look good," she said. "They work better than those khakis you wore earlier. You were looking like you were going to a country club with a posse of fellow WASPs."

Of course she had to.

"They were whole at least," Malcolm said. "Rhode, I think your pants ripped. Or they forgot to stitch the sides."

"You noticed," she shot back with an infuriating waggle of her brows.

As Rhode sipped her iced coffee, Malcolm struggled to respond. "You know, this also would have been a more functional outfit than that dress you wore for capture the flag. Less the heels, of course."

"What I did on Sunday, I could still do in heels," she said. "I doubt you could say the same."

In came Percy, who threw his arms around their shoulders. "How are we?" he said, his head ping-ponging between the two of them. "Hmm?"

"Good," Malcolm said, trying not to feel like he was being told off like a child. "Hey, man. Congrats again." He gave Percy a half-hug and was hit with the ocean breeze scent of two children of Poseidon. "Have you seen Annabeth?" he said.

Percy duly provided him with directions away from Rhode.

Annabeth, as it turned out, was surrounded by friends, and he didn't feel like wading into that. So, Malcolm found Sophie to watch the sunset with and managed another hour searching for and talking to Leo and Clarisse.

Finally, the blaring dance music faded when Connor and Travis announced they'd soon start their fireworks show. Yet, the chatter grew and the crowd headed in Malcolm's direction—and he tried not to feel like Simba facing a herd of wildebeests.

Malcolm eased his restlessness by reminding himself why he felt so unnecessarily irritable. He knew his ADHD also compounded the sensory overload. There was no rational need to feel so agitated. Still, he preferred to take the worst seat in the house, so long as it got him more breathing room.

On and on, his ears braced for the pops and bangs as he watched the shattering sparks form shapes in the sky. He was glad at least to see Alicia gasping and pointing at the pretty lights with Sophie and Zeke. Whatever story the Stolls were playing out, he couldn't tell. He'd rather see Alicia. After another barrage of bursts loud enough to cause him to shudder, he wondered if Connor and Travis had ever experimented with drones. Alicia probably wouldn't have liked it as much, though. Malcolm smiled as he watched her gawk again upon a loud crack, and he could've sworn his skin prickled once more. He realized when he felt something against his arm that Conrad must have joined him.

"You could've told me you'd be here," said Conrad. "The olives are killer, aren't they?" Conrad held out his bowl of almond-stuffed olives, which Malcolm knew was his favorite.

"I'm good," Malcolm said.

The brothers continued a lame but valuable conversation as both watched the fireworks, chatting all the while about new methods of manufactured spending, the elephant unemployment crisis, the banana disease, the latest unfounded outrage, the wonders of Japanese chalk….

Once the fireworks were over, Conrad was called by Grace—one of the few campers who weren't intimidated by either him or Claire. Malcolm still hadn't heard the full story of that day in the Arts and Crafts Center last month or for that matter what happened between the two at the Fourth of July celebrations.

"Don't tell me you hung with my ass instead," said Malcolm.

"I wanted to," Conrad said earnestly.

Malcolm looked at him. He knew Conrad really meant it. As for the other possibility… "Did some— You good?"

"Yeah," said Conrad—like, of course.

Malcolm nudged him. "Go," he whispered. "Unless you actually wanna walk around with me, 'cause I'm gonna get fruits or something to cap off dinner. But it's kinda rude if— Hi, Grace."

"Hi, Malcolm," she said cheerily as she walked up to them. "Conrad, I was looking for you."

For Conrad's sake, Malcolm pretended not to notice Grace touch his brother's elbow. ( Aha! )

"Sorry," Conrad said. "I was getting olives. Do you want some?"

Grace took one.

Malcolm already figured he wouldn't be hearing about the events of this night either. He also figured there wouldn't be anything for him not to know about if he kept hanging around. So, he excused himself and chose a quiet spot for chamomile and a bit of cake.

But Rhode had found her way there, too, helping herself to another serving of dessert. Three paces away stood Pravir, this aggressively attractive Roman with eyelashes envied by both men and women.

"You must be the infamous Princess Rhode," said Pravir.

Ah geez. Malcolm watched them from the corner of his eye. He needed a strategy.

"That would be correct," Rhode replied. "How did you know?"

"I only had to look for the most beautiful woman here." Pravir flashed his perfect, blinding smile.

Under his lids, Malcolm rolled his eyes. Dude, that's so cheesy. Was this seriously how people flirted?

Rhode hummed. "Why, thank you," she said, pleased. "And you would be?"

"Pravir Bhattacharya, son of Venus," he said.

"I can see why. It's lovely to meet you, Pravir," she said. "You have a nice smile." She took a bite of cake.

"Thank you. You, too," Pravir grinned as he swirled his highball. You know, you're pretty impressive," he said, moving even closer to Rhode. "I'm not even mad at Percy for wrecking the game if it meant camp could be graced with your presence."

"Oh, is that so?" she said.

Clarisse had only partially been right, Malcolm deduced. Valentina might not have wanted the attention, but it seemed Rhode was only happy to receive it.

"Oh, it is definitely so," Pravir said. "Someone should call the cops, because it has to be illegal to look that good."

Malcolm faced them and butt in loudly, "Do pickup lines that bad actually work?"

"Excuse me?" said Pravir.

Malcolm waited for Rhode's response. Was Her Highness going to admit that he was right? Or was she going to show him that she fell for those awful lines?

"Did you want to share a better one?" said Rhode. Any nonchalance was cancelled out by the hint of malice in her gaze.

"What would a child of Athena have to offer anyway?" said Pravir, even knitting his (of course, flawless) brows at Malcolm's cup of tea.

What do you want me to do? List things? You know, children of Athena do like making lists. Let's see. There's intelligence, including detailed knowledge of the female anatomy…

"You mean besides the ability to refrain from idiotic pissing contests?" Malcolm said.

And, seriously, why did so many just assume Athena's children were sexually inexperienced nerds? (It was either that or dumb jocks, which felt more insulting. Regardless, the whiplash was astounding.)

Pravir tilted his head. "I know a cop out when I see it," he said. "Go… enjoy your tea, Malcolm."

Malcolm gestured to the Roman. "Idiotic pissing contest, exhibit A," he said to Rhode.

A stumped Pravir couldn't look at Rhode anymore. He raised his highball at Malcolm. "Gaandu," he said, and downed his drink.

It took all of Malcolm to fight his own impulsivity and stupidity. Once Pravir left, he stopped biting the insides of his mouth.

"Shukriya," he said under his breath.

There'd be enough to pay for. Not at work, no, but he'd probably have to be extra careful during a future capture the flag game.

Rhode eyed him. "How do you know Hindustani?" she said.

"Friend," he said with a reflex smile. "And I only know several words."

"Oh, and was that one familiar because that's what they called you?" she taunted.

Malcolm huffed. "Nah, she's great," he said.

As if tuned to his thoughts, Aphrodite, not far behind Rhode, offered him yet another glimpse of Meena, reminding him of his yet unfulfilled promise to visit Oxford some summer. Maybe graduation—dinner on him. But it was highly likely she'd visit New York sooner than he'd leave. And she'd eventually send him a draft of her dissertation, so at least there was that.

Noticing that Aphrodite now appeared as part Indian PhD student, part Grecian royalty ( Holy crap. ), Malcolm averted his eyes.

"Why couldn't you mind your own business, hmm? You just had to cut in," Rhode said.

Malcolm stepped closer and lowered his voice. "He's a known player who's asked other guys to see their girlfriends' nudes. Maybe it was just a bad joke he made to fit in with some gross people. I don't know. But he did receive a talking to from HR. And I didn't think you wanted to be reduced to a sex object or potentially have your privacy rights violated."

He fully prepared a rebuttal for an I can take care of myself type comment.

Rhode's gaze softened, however. "That's considerate of you," she said.

Yeah, well, information asymmetry could be a serious concern in the market for hookups.

And c'mon, Princess. You can do a lot better than that guy. There were better people at camp. His twin brother, for one. See, now, Vivek was plenty hot, too, and he never hung around manchildren. Of course, he already had a girlfriend, though. Maybe Rhode had chatted him up, too.

"Do you flirt with everyone with a pulse?" said Malcolm.

"I see nothing wrong with keeping my options open," Rhode shrugged, "provided they are legal and available and decent."

Numbers game or not, she needed standards, was what she needed.

No, that wasn't it.

"You just lead them on because you like people fighting to win your attention?" Malcolm guessed.

"Winning my attention like how you fought those Hermes soldiers?" Rhode said.

Malcolm was slipping. All the while, his annoyance was peaking, despite knowing full well she knew he hadn't been goaded by her like Aphro dude had been. "Don't kid yourself," he said.

Seemingly both unimpressed and amused, Rhode replied, "Don't you think I'd give myself enough attention to have to look for a man's?"

Irritation dissipated as Malcolm felt a laugh bubble up. He held it in, though he probably couldn't rein in a part smile.

"And I don't have to kid myself. I've seen you looking at me," Rhode added. Her face neared as she spoke more quietly. "You're not as covert as you think, Malcolm."

"Oh. Covert like you were staring me down in the kitchen earlier today?" he blurted.

Shit. What in Hades had he just said?

"I'm a busy person. I have no time to be covert," said Rhode. Her gaze roamed his face, his chest, his shoulders, his neck…. "Now, I'll make this easy for you," she said, meeting his eyes again. "What else would you have to offer?"

Malcolm stared. "What else? I never offered you anything."

Footing retained.

"You already gave me the gift of saved time," said Rhode. "As well as multiple flattering remarks, which have been quite lovely to hear. Although it's fascinating it seems like they affect you more than me. Your face will flush… your cheeks will turn pink…."

Malcolm felt his ears heating up.

"Yeah," she said. "Just like that."

Malcolm grew redder.

See, all this while, he'd expected her not to accept those nice comments, to shrug them off and roll her eyes. So they could spar. But, noo. She'd just taken those compliments and turned them into ammo. Clever Rhodian.

For far too long, Malcolm offered no response. Look, as impressed as he was, he didn't want to be annoyed by her. She just made it impossible. And now he didn't know how to get out of this situation. Percy wasn't here this time. How was he to walk away without being rude?

But in a flash, Rhode's jokey expression was replaced with a kind sincerity. "I think it's admirable you dish out compliments and credit when it really doesn't benefit you to do so," she said. "And don't stop just because I'm teasing you a little."

"It really wasn't going to affect my plans," Malcolm snapped.

"Good," she smiled, shrugging off all his snark.

"I just do it when I think people deserve it," he said. "Why should giving credit be a function of whether or not I benefit from giving it? Or what anyone else thinks of me doing it?"

"Exactly." Her eyes were actually gentle now.

Someone tell his illogical ass why he was trying to argue back when clearly she agreed.

"Thanks, I guess," he said.

Rhode studied his face. "You're less red now," she noted.

Malcolm ignored that. "So, what, is it your turn now to dish some out?"

He wondered once more what was in his brain.

"Well..." said Rhode, looking once more like she was happy to cause trouble. "You could first show me sometime what's worth complimenting," said Rhode. "But if you don't think you'd be capable, I'll be on my merry way."

That was terrible logic. To present a false dichotomy. A non-exhaustive list of events. Illogical… unless assumptions were made. Undeniable assumptions. 'I've seen you looking at me….'

Prove it to me, she was saying. There he was, confronted with the temptation of a challenge—a challenge to prove her wrong in the best possible way. Had she gotten him already? What was he to do? Turn it down?

Duh. What else? Holy Zeus.

So, Malcolm held in his pride and refused the bait, and Rhode received a scoff and an eye-roll. Lame, perhaps, but it did the job.

As Rhode searched his face, her own lost its humor once more. "You know, I'll stop if you actually want me to," she muttered.

Malcolm stared back into her green eyes and blinked. He was certainly touched… by the lowest of standards. No, she didn't deserve points for that.

An awful pit lodged in his belly. His mouth was dry, and he was running out— Out of what he couldn't quite pinpoint.

Malcolm didn't want to say something he'd regret. But he also didn't want to say something he'd regret. So, he said nothing and ended up going with the only appropriate answer he could think of.

"That's considerate of you," he said, repeating her words back to her.

They'd reached a stalemate, but in a dimension beyond. Somehow, that made things weirder. But… at least he'd had an answer?

"I… uh-I actually have to look for Alicia," he muttered. "It's way past her bedtime."

Immediately he cringed. Had he consciously stressed the word "actually"? Did that actually mean anything? He couldn't tell. No matter. He actually wasn't interested in knowing.

"I just saw her with Rachel and Sophie," said Rhode. "They should be in the fireworks viewing area."

"Thanks," he said.

Rhode simply smiled. "Kalinýchta," she said.

He awkwardly bowed his head. "Kalinýchta."

Rhode smiled wider. "Óneira glyká," she said.

Yeah, she was totally needling him.

AN: Feedback is always appreciated. If I embarrassingly messed up a translation, for instance, do let me know.

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