Percy Jackson was here. Mr. D knew this because everyone at camp had said it at least once by now. He sighed through his nose, a habit he did when he was annoyed. Honestly, just because the brat had saved the world twice didn't mean he should be a celebrity.

All right, maybe he was loyal to his friends, maybe he kept his promises, but that didn't make him any less of an insufferable brat. Mr. D knew that all heroes were the same - selfish, incapable of thinking about anyone else, and always believing everyone else was beneath them. In fact, the only reason he hadn't turned the boy into a dolphin yet was because he had made sure Mr. D's son, Pollux survived the first war, after Mr. D had asked him to. Frankly, he was surprised the boy had kept his word, but then again, heroes could be unpredictable.

He looked around. The brats - sorry, children were spread out throughout Camp Half-Blood, doing their usual evening activities. The younger ones were running around the strawberry fields, trying to see who could do a full lap the fastest. Most of them collapsed on the grass halfway, laughing. Mr. D snorted. He could never understand mortals.

Mr. D wondered where the Jackson boy was. Maybe he should go find him. After all, he hadn't gotten to annoy the boy for a long time now . . .

Percy was in the lake, having a conversation with the fish. They were filling him in on everything that had happened during his eight month absence. Everything that the campers hadn't already told him, that is. Percy laughed when he heard a story involving Conner and Travis Stoll, an unsuspecting child of Apollo, and a couple of hellhounds.

Man, he thought. I've really missed a lot. Maybe I could help the Stolls prank Nico to make up for it. He climbed out of the lake, contemplating whether or not it would be a good idea to risk the son of Hades's wrath, when he heard a snide, irritatingly familiar voice.

"So, Peter Johnson is back. May I ask what you are doing here, boy? Shouldn't you be saving the world somewhere? Of course," Mr. D added sarcastically, "Perhaps that is too boring for you, after all the wars you've fought, and all the brave, heroic deeds you've already done. Maybe you would like for me to turn you into a dolphin and send you back to the sea, where you might be a bit more useful."

Percy glared at the camp director, the one downside of visiting camp. Although Mr. D wasn't quite as hostile towards Percy as he used to be, he still didn't like to be in his company. Despite everything that had happened in the past couple of years, Mr. D stubbornly stuck to his belief that all heroes were arrogant and selfish, and Percy doubted he'd ever change his mind. Therefore, the two did everything they could to annoy each other.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know swimming in the lake was illegal now. Should I go back to my cabin, or am I not allowed to sleep, either?" Percy could practically see smoke coming out of the camp director's nostrils.

"You might not be the sharpest boy I've met, but I expect you to remember that I am a god and should be treated like one, unless you want me to teach you the hard way, Perry," Mr. D snapped.

"It's Percy! Percy Jackson. Why do you always get our names wrong, Mr. D?" Percy demanded.

"Why should I be bothered to learn the name of some insufferable brats? Will it do me any good, Johansson?"

"You do know our names. You might get them wrong every time, but you do it on purpose. Why?"

Mr. D was annoyed. Who did this boy think he was, demanding answers from a god? He thought he knew everything. "I suppose you think I do it for some selfish, uncaring reason, don't you, boy? You think that the gods are always wrong, that we don't care, that you know better than us."

"No, I don't." This was true. Despite all the bad things he had seen gods do - all the destruction they had caused, the lives they had ruined - years of experience had taught Percy to also see the good in them. He didn't think they were completely bad.

Mr. D snorted. "Tell me then, why do you think I get your names wrong?"

Percy hesitated. He was familiar enough with the gods to know that if he said something wrong he might be killed, or at least sprout dolphin fins.

"Well?" asked Mr. D. "I haven't got all day."

"You do it to help us," Percy blurted out.

"What?" said Mr. D. He was taken aback. That had not been what he was expecting.

Percy groaned inwardly. Now he'd done it. Why hadn't he just kept his mouth shut? But Mr. D was glaring at him, waiting for him to continue, so he supposed there was no going back now.

"Well," he fumbled, trying to find a way he could say what he was thinking so as to not offend the god. "You were a demigod too once, weren't you?"

Mr. D nodded almost imperceptibly.

"So you know what it's like to be in our place, at least better than the other gods. You've also spent enough time with us now to know that our lives are always changing, and turning upside down sometimes, people and things coming and going."

Mr. D's shock was wearing off, and another feeling was entering him - something warm and unfamiliar and a little uncomfortable, so he focused on the boy in front of him. Percy seemed slightly nervous, as he should be when talking to a god, but also completely earnest. His sea-green eyes were determined as he went on.

"Well, you know how we feel when things change all the time. You know how much we hate that, and how much we wish things could stay the same. Years ago, you told me that a kind act can sometimes be as powerful as a sword, and that small things can sometimes become much bigger. So, you give us one small thing to comfort us. You call us by the wrong names to give us one thing that never changes, to make up slightly for all the things that do."

Percy stopped speaking and looked at Mr. D, who was, for the first time in a few millennia, completely nonplussed. First of all, he hadn't expected Percy to remember the conversation they had had years ago, after the battle that killed his son Castor. Secondly, this was the first time in his immortal life anyone had said anything like that to him. No one at camp had ever viewed Mr. D's apparent inability to remember their names as a good thing, nor noticed that he actually cared. Frankly, Mr. D hadn't expected them to, as he rarely ever admitted that fact to himself. Yet here was this boy, a son of Poseidon, someone he had long looked at as an insufferable brat, who had seen that Mr. D cared more than everyone else thought.

Percy stood there by the lake as night fell and the stars started to show, waiting for Mr. D to speak. Finally, the wine god said, "I didn't expect that."

Percy smiled. Just through those four words, he could tell that Mr. D was, although he would probably never admit it, a little touched. "So, does that mean I'm right?"

"Yes, Johnson, I suppose it does."

Percy grinned. There was silence for a moment, with no sound besides the soft rustling of the leaves in the wind, and the distant noises of the campers getting ready for dinner.

"Johnson?" said Mr. D abruptly.

"Yeah?"

"I would appreciate it if you don't tell anyone about this conversation."

Percy's curious face was replaced by a playful smile, and Mr. D could see mischief in his eyes. "Well," said Percy. "I might have to, you see."

Mr. D raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"Because I am an insufferable brat, aren't I?" And with one final smirk, Percy walked away into the trees towards the rest of the campers.

Mr. D shook his head. However, he didn't feel quite as annoyed as he usually did with the son of Poseidon. In fact, he found that he rather liked the boy. He sighed again. What was it about these annoying campers? No matter what, they always managed to get on your good side. But, he reminded himself as he followed the path Percy had just taken, that didn't mean they weren't insufferable brats. After all, some things never change.