Now that Ned and Peter know where the weird weapons dealers are, they're off, babbling on about some trip and how they're going to make sure Peter is able to go. Normaly I wouldn't care that they're spilling a bunch of secrets as if I'm not standing less than three feet away, but right now the very few hours of sleep I got last night aren't cutting it and I can already guess that they're planning a way to get to Maryland. Plus, I have to make sure the eleven year old child I currently have in my living room actually eats something or risk her sister testing out her latest batch of pig balls on me.

I wait a little to see if their conversation will burn it self out without me doing anything to stop it, but every time it seems to be dying down, they start doubting themselves on something that rekindles their planning. Not seeing an easier way, I eventually clear my throat in the way most people do when they want to be noticed without drawing to much attention. I'm a little surprised when it works. They automatically stop colluding with each other and turn to me like they've seen a zombie. I'm almost tempted to check that Jules Albert hasn't snuck up behind us.

"Sorry, I guess we sorta forgot you were still here," Peter apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Well it is my house, my room."

"You know, you're right, we should leave before we over stay our welcome." Ned practically pushes Peter out the door. I follow behind them to make sure they don't mess with anything on the way to the front door. Zeus knows that they can't leave things alone if my Mythomagic figures are any indications.

They're out the front door and halfway down the hall before Peter suddenly remembers his manners. "Thanks for inviting us." I nod to let him know that I've heard him before closing the door on their quick retreat.

Idiots. How could those two buffoons keep Peter's alter ego a select for so long? I can't believe I almost thought they up to something suspicious earlier. Oh well, with them on their way to D.C. soon and me staying her to watch Ashely I won't have to deal with them for a few more days.

More importantly, now that they're gone I can finally get something to eat. I'm starving. If my appetite wasn't already ruined thanks the my time in the jar, my stomach would have already eaten itself three times over by now.

"Hey Ash, what do you want to eat?" I call over my shoulder as I begin throwing open cabinet doors and rifling through the fridge to see what I have in stock. The only answer is the still running television. "Ashely?" Slightly concerned that she disappeared in the short time that I took my eyes off of her, I creep over to the couch to check.

Thankfully it's still occupied. She's laying there with half of her body practically dangling over the edge as she slowly breathes in and then out again. I don't know how she can possibly be sleeping in such a position. If she moves even a little she'll be choking on her own hair. Sighing, I grab the remote to turn off the television then try to move her so that she's in less danger of landing in a heap on the floor without waking her up. I'll wake her up when the food is ready.

I grab the remote and turn off the television before resuming my search for something editable. After a while I gather together eggs and bread, assuming french toast will be at least a little healthier than ramen. It doesn't take long for me to have a plate full of fried bread ready to be eaten, now I just need someone to eat them.

"Okay, time to wake up," I say louder than the last time that I tried to get Ashely's attention. There's a grumble and the shifting of a body, but she doesn't get up. Okay, plan B. I grab one of the pieces of junk mail I left laying on a near-by counter and throw it.

She lazily rolls over so that she can look at me over the couch. "Did you throw something at me?"

"Of course not. Come on, you need to eat something and I made food."

Ashely squints at me, but decides that food is more important than the minor assault and wonders over. I plop a plate down in front of her. She stares at it for a minute before looking at me. "Syrup please." she smiles and widens her eyes to make them look bigger. So much for french toast being healthy.

"By the way," I interrupt once she's eaten half of her food. "where's Jules Albert? He was supposed to watch you."

"In the bathroom."

"Okay...why?"

"To hide I think. "Ashely tilts her head to the side, thinking. "He went in there when you knocked on the door. " I nod in understanding. Reaching out my senses, I dismiss him back to the Underworld. Probably should have done that earlier. "Done," Ashely declares. She grabs her plate and puts it in the sink before rushing back over to the T.V.

"Whoa, what do you think you're doing?"

She cocks her head and points at the large screen.

"Nope, you've watched enough television. Your brain will turn to mush." Says the guy that spent the whole night binge watching a show two days ago. When did I become a hypocrite? "Why don't you draw a picture or read a book?" Great now I sound like a middle aged mom. I have a kid for less than a day and this happens.

"I'm not three, but fine, I'll go struggle through an English book."

"Or you could just borrow one I have that's written in Greek." She rolls her eyes to show me what she really thinks of my idea. Before either of us can make another snarky comment the phone cut in. Who's calling now? Snatching up the phone, I answer. "What?"

"Is this Nico di Angelo?" The guy on the other end sounds a little like Stark's bodyguard from last night. How did he get this number?

"No," I hang up.