forum Percy Jackson!

Started January 14, 2019 by @Hawkeye

tune

Lydia fought to catch her breath, still laughing.

Trenton held his stomach, his sides hurting from laughing so hard. “If I… If I break a rib this is all your fault.” He whined.

“Oh, you’ll be fine, we’ve all broken ribs.” Lydia said, wiping away tears of laughter.

Trenton caught his breath, his face hurting from smiling. “That was highly unprofessional of me.” He shook his head, trying to school his expression back into a blank slate.

“It’s not work, we don’t need to be professional!” Lydia said, still smiling.

Trenton smoothed out his hair, succeeding in regaining a neutral facial expression. He wiped the honey off his flushed cheeks and straightened out his posture. “Professionalism is a constant requirement.” Trent replied blandly. It was another one of those phrases that sounded as if it’d been drilled into the boy’s skull and written on his skin.

Lydia felt her heart sink. “It’s not, Trent.” She said quietly.

He flashed a charming smile in her direction, working on flattening a piece of hair that escaped the gel. “Worry not, little dwarf. It’s about maturity.” Some of the mischief from the minutes prior gleamed in his eyes before he cleared his throat and resumed eating his sandwich.

Lydia smiled, but she knew it hadn’t reached her eyes. She really hated the fact that this stuff was drilled into her friend, but she couldn’t do anything about it.

Trenton finished his sandwich and cleaned his hands in the sink. “You need to eat too, Lydia. You need energy after what happened earlier.” He avoided mentioning Blair, not wanting to cause any arguments to outbreak. He used a paper towel to dry his hands. “Eat peanut butter if you must, dreadful or not, it contains protein.”

“I’ll just stick to honey.” Lydia said, biting into her sandwich.

Trenton glanced over at the door, making sure their exit was still secure. After deciding it was safe, he moved over to investigate the fridge for something to drink.

“Is there any soda in there?”

“Soda isn’t healthy for you.” He look over his shoulder, frowning at her. “There isn’t anyways, it’s mostly ingredients.”

Lydia cursed. “Fine….”

“Swearing is impolite.” He lectured, although there was no real bite to his words. The response was close in tone to his response to his lack of professionalism, sounding slightly off.

(I just want to make sure you guys are okay with the whole Trenton-Abuse subplot I set up! I want to get to know Lydia, Blair, Bren, and Angel just as well, so if you feel like I’m putting too much emphasis on this or neglecting anyone/plot, ((or if you’re genuinely uncomfortable with it)) don’t be afraid to let me know! I really like this rp, but I want everyone else to enjoy it equally.)

(Oh, I’m cool. I wasn’t sure that was where you were going with it, so I didn’t want to say anything.)
“Sorry.” Lydia said, quietly.

(Awesome. Trent isn’t really the touchy-feely type anyways, so there won’t be any gorey details or anything like that. But I’ll hold off from most of it until I’m sure @HOney and Spearmint is cool with it as well)

“S’okay.” Trent mumbled absentmindedly, his head practically inside in the fridge as he dug around. “Where do they keep all the drinks for lunch if there’s nothing in this wretched machine?”

Lydia just shrugged.

Trenton retracted himself from the fridge, muttering the exact curses he just scolded Lydia for when he whacked his head on the fridge door. He rubbed his head, wrinkling up his nose in annoyance. He sensed something different about the vibe of the room that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Lydia looked around for a moment, feeling off. She shrugged it away, and said, “Hippocrit.”

“I’m an adult so it’s permitted.” Trenton tried to make an allowance for himself, hoping Lydia wouldn’t catch the awkwardness in his voice. Gods, I’m a terrible liar. He squared his shoulders, trying to make himself look more confident.

“Pardon me? How old are you again?”

Trenton froze up, slightly caught off guard. He cleared his throat quickly, and strutted across the room, leaning (a tad dramatically I might add) on the counter. He ran a hand through his hair again, as if acting like a bad boy in a teenager rom-com gave him a confidence boost. “Older than you.” He offered up his best practiced charming smile, hoping to get away with this.

“No freaking duh. That wasn’t the question.”

Trent switched his tactic, converting his expression to wide, confused puppy eyes and a slightly bashful, innocent smile. “It wasn’t? I’m afraid I’ve misunderstood.”

“You’re smart enough to know that I’m asking for your age in years, with actual numbers.”

“Well you’ll have to wait a moment. I’m afraid math is not a strength of mine.” Trent pretended to think, humming slightly.

“Really? That’s your excuse? Come on man, how old are you?”

“I think it’s a perfectly legitimate excuse. I am rather daft on occasion.”