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Humans didn't display unattractive emotions. Not in public. They wouldn't call attention to themselves, wouldn't ostracize themselves. So what was this girl doing, sitting alone on a bench, crying?
He walked toward her slowly, wondering what to do. He shouldn't talk to her, shouldn't open up that connection. His father—and to be honest, many of the gods—would have advised him against it, saying the risk outweighed any reward. But he was famous for having an insatiable curiosity and the determination to pursue the answer until he got it.
What struck him as odd was that, in general, he tried to avoid prolonged conversations with mortals, if only because he didn't find them exceptionally interesting. A few centuries of human interaction had cured him of the desire to understand how humans acted. They were, for the most part, entirely too similar to each other to be fascinating.
But this girl didn't act as normal mortals did. She seemed to disregard proper etiquette. That or she had received particularly distressing news. Or she was mentally unstable. In any case, he felt drawn to her, to decipher her. She was a puzzle. And he had to solve her.
He must have been louder than he'd meant, because the girl looked up at his approach. Her immediate reaction was alarm, green eyes widening and shying back. She calmed after a moment, her posture relaxing and she wiped the tears from her eyes with embarrassment.
"May I sit?" He asked the question with caution and after a short consideration, the girl nodded. She watched him carefully as he sat. She was small and slender and looked in that instant extremely fragile and breakable.
"Pardon me for asking, but why were you crying?"
Perhaps it was a bit blunt, but he didn't enjoy avoiding a subject when he wanted to learn something.
The girl's cheeks flushed.
"No reason."
He arched an eyebrow. "Really? So you were just crying in the middle of the park for the hell of it?"
She grimaced. "Sure."
"Tell me why you were crying." His voice was smooth and persuasive this time and he fully expected the girl to cave, just as any mortal would.
Her eyes hardened. "No," she said firmly, and stood. He watched in shock as she effortlessly avoided his charm and walked away before regaining his senses and standing. It took only a couple easy strides to catch up to her.
"Why not?"
She rolled her eyes at his persistence and he noted her discreetly increase the distance between them.
"Because you're a stranger."
He blocked her path and she instinctively stepped back. He offered his hand.
"My name is," he thought quickly, "Harry."
She looked at him strangely.
"Okay…"
"Now I'm not a stranger," he explained.
"Oh." She accepted his handshake hesitantly. "Lucy."
With the introductions completed, they resumed their walk.
"So, will you tell me now?"
"No." She squinted up at him; he was a good foot taller than her and looking up was necessary to maintain eye contact. "Why're you so curious?"
He shrugged. "You don't usually see pretty girls crying alone in the park."
She raised her eyebrows in dark amusement. "Pretty?"
He nodded innocently. She rolled her eyes again.
"I guess chivalry isn't dead." The accompanying laugh held no humor.
"You haven't answered my question," he reminded her.
"I won't." She crossed her arms stubbornly, and he could see her knuckles turn white as she gripped her arms. She seemed to be anxious about something.
"What are you worried about?"
The girl's reaction to his simple, if rather observant, question was unexpected. She jerked away from him, eyes widening.
"What?"
"You look nervous," he explained warily. "Just your body language."
She seemed to understand and visibly relaxed, though the tense expression in her eyes made him suspect she did so for his sake.
"I'm just…stressed, about school, you know," she offered, but the apprehensive edge in her voice hinted at the untruth of the statement. He decided to play along, because clearly she didn't enjoy lying, and if she was doing it anyway, she really must not want to tell him the truth. He resolved to work on it later. In the meantime, he'd focus on making her feel comfortable.
"Midterms?" he teased. She shook her head.
"Not exactly. I don't go to a traditional college. We don't really do midterms." She looked at the ground uneasily. She didn't like revealing so much information.
"What college do you attend?"
"Parsons."
He'd heard of the school. It was an art school, and indeed not the traditional sort.
"What's your major?"
She glanced up at him with suspicion. "Photography."
He held his hands up. "Whoa, I mean you no harm. No need to be hostile."
"I'm not being hostile!" He looked at her pointedly and she blushed.
"I just don't understand why you're doing this."
"Doing what?"
"Going out of your way to talk to me."
He thought. It was a good question, actually. There was no clear explanation for his interest in her. He gave her the simplest answer. "Because you're so unusual."
She made a face. "That's what every girl wants to hear."
He shrugged. "It's the truth."
She persisted. "But why? Just because I was crying?"
He tilted his head, considering the girl's question carefully.
"No, that's not all…" In a detached, cheekier part of his mind he wondered idly how to phrase the fact that she was somehow immune to his godly powers. That wasn't something most mortals expected to hear.
Lucy grew impatient. "Then what?"
He honestly didn't know what to tell her. "You just don't act like other girls I've met," he finished weakly.
She stared at him doubtfully. "That's specific."
He shrugged helplessly.
"Well…" She trailed off awkwardly. "I'm going to be going now…" She began to walk away, watching him from the corner of her eye. Without thinking, he grabbed her sleeve. She flinched, pulling her arm from his grip in alarm. Taking a few steps back, her stance warned him without words not to advance. Her eyes questioned him in a way that made him feel, strangely enough, as if he'd betrayed her. He turned red.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "I just wanted to ask you something."
"What?" she snapped.
"I just…" It was amazing how ineloquent he was. "I wanted to ask you out sometime."
She stared at him incredulously. "No."
"Oh." He could do nothing but gape after her speechlessly as she walked away.
It was dark when Lucy walked out the door of the store. She didn't see the broken piece of concrete in her path, didn't notice it at all until she tripped over it. Before she could hit the ground, someone seized her jacket and pulled her up. Whoever it had been released her immediately and she stumbled a bit, trying to regain her balance. She looked for the person, finding him standing a few paces back. She instantly recognized the black hair and sharp blue eyes above the dark coat. The girl gasped, backing away and inevitably falling over the same piece of concrete. Again, he caught her before she could complete her fall. But as he righted her, she pushed him away, cheeks flushed furiously.
"Stop!"
He let go, watching her warily.
"What are you doing here?" Her angry words may have been slightly more threatening if her alarm hadn't added a trembling edge to them. She looked at him fearfully, wrapping her arms around herself in an action he suspected was more than to protect herself from the cold. He half-regretted halting her fall and half-wondered why she was so angry at him for doing so.
"I was just walking past," he gestured at the street. It wasn't quite true, but he didn't want to scare her anymore than he already had. "Are you okay?" he added, concern leaking into his voice.
She scrutinized him silently before replying. "Yes."
"Lucy, this afternoon, I didn't mean to frighten you."
He couldn't interpret the expression in her eyes.
"Of course."
They stood silently for a long moment. The street, neither central nor particularly notable in the minds of most New Yorkers, was not crowded by nine at night. No one bothered the two people standing in the middle of the sidewalk, looking at each other but saying nothing.
"If you're going to ask me out again, the answer is still no," she told him softly. It was hesitant, as if she was afraid of what he'd say or do in reply.
"I won't ask you out again until you want me to."
She'd been examining the concrete she'd tripped over twice, but looked up suddenly. "How are you planning on knowing that?"
He shrugged. "I figure you'll tell me."
She seemed about to say something, but stopped. Her eyes narrowed.
"So you're planning on sticking around?"
He nodded slowly. "It's not as if you'll give me a chance any other way."
"Who says I'll give you a chance this way?"
The way she retorted was fascinating. She'd say something flippant, then almost cringe back from him. He watched her with interest. Yet another thing to figure out about the strange girl.
"Well, if I don't try, we'll never know."
She frowned, but made no move to dismiss him, so he pushed farther.
"I won't expect anything. I just want to get to know you."
"Why?" She seemed frustrated, her hands balling into fists.
"Why do I need a reason?"
She glared at him with annoyance. "When will you just give up?"
"I don't give up."
She didn't respond.
"You haven't said no yet…" he gently prodded.
She frowned. "Yes I have."
"Not for my recent proposition. All I ask is that you tolerate my presence. That's all I'm asking." For now, he added silently. He told himself that he merely needed a closer relationship to procure the ability to ask her more personal questions—the ones that he needed to figure her out—without sounding improper and risk pushing her away.
He watched the emotions cross her face as she thought. He tried to determine what was going through her mind using the expressions, but found himself unsuccessful and waited for her response instead. She was quiet for a long time before finally speaking.
"Fine," she said reluctantly. He beamed and her eyes widened, not expecting the sheer happiness that her hesitant consent brought him. She tried to ignore how different—she wouldn't say anything beside that—he looked with a smile.
"Now go away," she added impatiently. He acquiesced with a content bow and walked backwards (not tripping over anything, he might add).
"See you later, Lucy."
She sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. "Whatever."
He walked away cheerfully. He couldn't fully explain why he'd worked so hard to receive the mortal girl's approval. Not that what she'd grudgingly given him could truly be called approval, but she had agreed to give him a chance, and that was what mattered. Because he was completely confident that, given a chance, he could figure out what was going on.
His phone rang, interrupting his smug thoughts.
"Yes?"
"I need you to mediate."
He repressed a sigh at the sharp words.
"Between who?"
"Apollo and Ares."
He gritted his teeth. Arguments between those two could be counted on to be violent and prolonged. To reach a truce would not be an easy task. This would delay his plans with Lucy for a while. This time he didn't stop the sigh.
"Fine." He shut the phone without waiting for a response. He might get it later from his father but didn't particularly care. As long as he completed his duties, his father couldn't punish him.
Rubbing his temples, he disappeared, headed toward Olympus and away from the strange mortal girl.