Ana sent him a glare that actually made him want to take a step back, but stood up anyhow. She had a sword, that she's apparently had for years but just collected dust.
"People have tried for eighteen years. I can't do it. Why do I need to? I've survived quite well exploding hearts and making their blood clot or turn to something like fire."
Percy sighed. I love you. I love you. I love you.
"Because you need to know how to protect yourself. What if you meet a monster that won't die by just exploding?"
"Then I have you."
She said it with such sincerity and belief that it made his heart so warm and he felt a blush rise to his cheeks. Half sweet talk, half because she truly believes it.
"I'm not with you twenty four-seven," he tried.
"Since when."
"Please, Ana? It'll make me feel better knowing you can do something besides just explode hearts."
Ana stared up at him, then huffed, holding out her hand for him to help her up. Sweat dropped down her body, yet she had this glow to her that the sweat seemed more like glitter than anything. She only wore a sports bra—having thrown her shirt off half-way through their original workout—and tight shorts. Percy was distracted as he couldn't help but eye the scars that littered her body. He wanted to know the story behind each and every one, good and bad.
