Nico told Hazel about the ghost haunting his apartment the next day when they met in a café. She'd just come back home in New Orleans after an archaeological expedition, and already someone had contracted her to help with expanding some city's subway all the way in Europe, so they only had a few days together. There was always work for demigods and their particular talent. As long as they stuck to their father's network of clients, they could do it and keep a low profile. It was always better than getting a regular job and trying to be human all the time. With the risk of monster attacks, that rarely ended well.

"Another demigod?" Hazel let out. "Shame that he's dead. I always wondered what they would be like."

"You could still talk to him. I don't know why you'd want to, but if you're curious. I'm sure he wouldn't mind." By that, of course, Nico meant Will didn't have much of a choice. It was his apartment, haunted or not, and he'd bring his sister home if he wanted to.

"I'll think about it. It could be fun. Do you think he'd give away some of Apollo's secrets?" Noticing Nico's dubious expression, she chuckled. "Yeah, probably not. I wouldn't do it to Dad either. Still, do you think it's a coincidence he lived in New Orleans?"

The city was one of the places where Hades's demigod kids were raised and trained for most of their lives. Nico had wondered himself if Will had ended up here by accident—he knew he wouldn't have gone in another god's territory. "Could be. He didn't seem to know about the other Olympians at all."

"What if his dad was plotting something? Send him in as an unwitting spy?"

Nico shrugged. "The less involved I am with it, the better. Let the Olympians play their game of politics."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Hazel sighed, her gaze lost in the distance. The last time they'd gotten involved in Olympian politics, Nico and Bianca's mother had died. Abruptly, she turned back to Nico, a wide grin on her face. "So you were naked when you first met him? Do you think that was intentional?"

"He said he 'couldn't resist taking a peek'," Nico blurted out, before he realized the implications of it.

Hazel giggled like a schoolgirl, but her smile had no innocence to it. "You made an impression, then. Is he hot?"

"He's a ghost."

"If ghosts can become corporeal enough to take revenge on their murderer, I'm sure he could—"

"Hazel!" Nico's cheeks felt like they were on fire.

She laughed again. "Sorry. But judging by your face, I'm sure you've thought of it."

Nico groaned. "He is hot. Although he has terrible fashion sense. And, as I said, he's a ghost. I'm not that desperate for a boyfriend."

"So what are you going to do about him?"

Nico shrugged. "My job, I guess. Find out why he's still there, and make sure he doesn't stay. I'll just have to do it for myself instead of a client. He doesn't remember how he died. I'm sure if I figure it out, he'll be gone."

"Okay. Need a hand with it? Bianca's still in LA, isn't she? I can help, if you want."

"I'll be fine. But if you want to come over and meet him, my offer still stands."

"Maybe tomorrow," Hazel said, rubbing her temples. "I'm still jet-lagged. I really wanted to see you, but as soon as we're done here I'm going straight to bed."

Nico couldn't help but mentally face-palm at his lack of empathy towards her. "I'm so sorry I didn't think about it. And we barely even talked about your trip!"

Hazel scoffed. "Trust me, prehistoric caverns aren't all they're cracked up to be, once you've seen dozens of them. This was much more entertaining." She raised a suggestive eyebrow as she stood up, but her smile was candid, devoid of teasing. "Come on, big brother, let's go."

If Hazel was going straight to bed, Nico couldn't say the same. He'd had an entire afternoon to go through first, serving as intermediate between a deceased father and his beloved—and numerous—children. They were from several different mothers, and none of them agreed on the way to interpret his will, so they'd called Nico for help. Why anyone trusted his word was beyond him, but they did. He didn't like the way the ghost had spoken of his mistresses, and he may have taken some liberties with the man's instructions for the sake of fairness, but in the end he was happy with his work, if exhausted.

So when he came back home to the smell of boiling frying oil and aromatic herbs, he was torn between panicking and being too tired to bother. He summoned his sword from the shadows cast by his entrance door, and walked towards the kitchen…only to be greeted by a smiling Will.

His smile vanished quickly at the sight of the blade, though. "Is that really necessary?" Will had found an apron somewhere, unless he'd conjured it, since ghosts could change clothes at will, even if few of them knew it. For a brief moment, Nico had the impression that he was naked underneath, but he was still wearing the same swimming trunks as they day before—although his t-shirt was nowhere in sight.

"I could ask you the same," Nico said, slowly sheathing the sword. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Making dinner? I thought that was obvious."

"Okay, let me rephrase that. Why are you doing this? Ghosts don't it. Ghosts can't eat." Even when they got corporeal, Nico had never seen a ghost manage to do something as inherently tied to life as eating. Food just fell through their jaws, every single time.

"Yeah, I found that out earlier today. Sorry about your sofa, by the way." Nico cast a glance behind him, but of course the sofa was out of sight—and it was probably for the best. "Anyway, I'm doing this for you. I thought it'd be nice. I'm squatting here, after all."

The sizzling of fat intensified behind him, and Will turned brusquely to take care of whatever was in the pan—Nico couldn't see it. This suddenly made Nico realize that Will wasn't just corporeal enough to cook, he was opaque. He stared in shock, and of course his brain lingered on the lean muscles of his back, like a surfer's. Knowing Apollo, his son might very well be a surfer. And, hideously bright as they were, Nico had to concede the swimming trunks clung very nicely to the shape of his—

"Oh! by the way," Will said, turning around and interrupting Nico's stream of less-than-respectable thoughts, "how do you like your steak?"

Nico blinked and stared in confused silence.

"You know, how do you like it cooked."

"Oh. Um. Whatever, I guess." Seeing Will's insistent look, he forced his brain to start working again. "Well done?"

Will had a disapproving grimace, but nodded. "You got it. How about you just go relax? It'll only be a few minutes."

Nico opened his mouth to retort, but Will turned back to the stove again, and…well, Nico would not stare at his back again. So he exited the kitchen, hovering towards the television. He couldn't exactly relax, though—not after seeing the dried-up mess of milk and cereals that cluttered his sofa. At least it wasn't the couch he sat on most of the time, but still.

"If he can cook, why couldn't he clean up?" he grumbled as he picked most of it up in a paper towel to throw it away. The stains would be harder to get rid of—might be irrecuperable. And it gave off a faint scent of milk, which would probably get worse over time. Maybe he should just dispose of it before it did.

But he couldn't do it immediately, of course, since Will came out of the kitchen. "Come on, dinner's ready!"

Frustrated sigh aside, Nico was hungry and it had been a while since he hadn't eaten anything that wasn't take-out or microwaveable. He couldn't resist the steak and homemade fries—even the smell of them was appetizing enough. Although he had to wonder where and how Will had gotten his ingredients. But that could wait.

Will sat across from him at his small table, observing Nico as he ate. There was something a little off-putting about it—and it was a little too Twilight for Nico's taste—but the food was really good, and he found he was starving.

"Do you like it? I picked that up from my mom. I doubt dad thinks cooking is cool enough for us to know. I'm told I'm really great at it."

In spite of the boat, there was an uncertainty to his voice, and that more than anything got Nico to answer honestly. "It's delicious. Well…it was."

"Thanks." Will smirked. "So… now will you tell me your name?" Nico frowned, and he added, "You never told me."

Second mental face-palm of the day. "I didn't mean to. Usually I try to learn about the ghosts I deal with so I can send them—they aren't interested in me. It's Nico. Nico di Angelo."

"Lovely name. Italian?"

Nico smirked. "Somewhere high up in the family tree, yes, probably. Not for generations."

Will nodded thoughtfully—although why, Nico wasn't sure. "So when you say you send ghosts back—"

"It's my job. Well, sort of—it's part of it. I'm a medium."

Will's impressed look felt out of place, but it looked genuine. "Cool. I'm starting to see why you weren't that freaked out by me." After a pause, he added, "Does that mean you'll send me too? And…where?"

"The Underworld. Where you should be. And—yes." Nico wasn't sure why he hesitated.

"How?"

"I find out why you're still here. Solve your unfinished business, pass on your last words. That sort of thing." Seeing how present Will was, Nico doubted it would be anything that simple, but the principle was the same.

"Oh. I see. I just—"

"You're not sure you want to be sent to the Underworld."

Will looked up, surprised. "How do you—"

"Nobody wants to," Nico said with a shrug.

"Of course. Well…how do we start?"

"You wait for me to have a day off. I'm not dealing with more than one ghost per day."

"Why? Do you have a quota, or a limitation, or something?"

Nico stared at him. "No, I'm just tired after dealing with a ghost."

Will grimaced. "Sorry."

"I didn't mean—" Nico paused, frustrated. "Talking to ghosts is fine. It's not like that requires any use of my powers. But when you have to basically fix a ghost's entire life, and preferably in a limited time, with them yapping at you that you're not doing it just right—you get the idea. And sometimes I have to help them on the way to the Underworld. That takes a lot of power."

He was surprised to see that Will had held on to his every word, and smiled when he was done. "Okay. No fixing my life tonight, then. How about we just hang out? We could do something! Do you like video games? I hope I can still play."

Nico raised his eyebrows, in equal parts surprised and skeptical. Will wanted to hang out? If his biggest regret in life was not experiencing a 'true bromance', this was not a sending Nico looked forward to. "I guess I owe you for making dinner. And yes, I like video games. Who doesn't?" It might even be better than a mindless talk show.