Chapter Text
Frank’s first impression of the praetor is that the demigod is unbelievably kind. It's kind of backwards, truly, because his time at the Wolf House had been grueling compared to his life before it, and then the journey to New Rome’s borders after he’d been declared passable was just as difficult. His grandmother had warned him, and to a degree she had been right, right up until the point that Frank met the first praetor of Camp Jupiter.
Praetor Grace (“call me Jason!”) is kind. Oddly enough. He took the penned letters that Frank’s grandmother had sent as recommendation (however unhelpful it might be considering their reputation) and then asked Frank if he wanted a tour.
It would have been in poor taste to say no. So now Frank was awkwardly walking next to the praetor while the other demigod pointed at various points and landmarks, explaining random bits of history or how a fresh faced member of Camp Jupiter and a new citizen of New Rome like Frank could interact with said landmarks. Throughout their walk as well, Jason had been stopped several times by members of the legion, and instead of being annoyed, the praetor had been downright cheerful, more than happy to help and pause a second to chat or to point out a younger legionnaire in the right direction of whatever task they were searching for. It made the tour slow going, but Frank supposed that he couldn’t complain much on it. As much as it was already taking time out of his day, Jason didn’t even have to give Frank a tour in the first place, he could have passed the task onto someone else, or worse– he could have just stuck Frank with a map and a slap on the shoulder with a cheerful ‘good luck’ and Frank would’ve had to grin and bear it.
Grandmother warned him before he left. The legion would not be kind, their family name too dishonored from a tragedy that none of them had started and was too old to be remembered. She’d told him to keep his feet solid on the ground, to protect his lifeline and to never ever take any Roman’s word at face value.
Jason’s hand gripped his elbow, steering him out of the way of a lars before Frank could walk through the ghost. “You doing okay? It is a lot of information to take in at once.”
Frank hummed in non comment. “I guess.”
“You’re from pretty northward right?” Jason said. “I feel like what you brought might need to be switched out for more weather appropriate options. Once we get some food, I can show you where the fifth and fourth cohorts stock up on the regulation basics?”
The weather was decently balmy compared to home. And compared to the Wolf House. It was barely the end of the summer months and Frank could feel the way that his shirt stuck to his back and the collar chafed, humidity a bitch as always. “Sure.”
That got him a sunny smile in return, Jason gesturing to one of the buildings that he’d been leading them to. The ground level appeared to be some sort of bistro or cafe, apartments making up the other three levels, and through an open window on the second floor, a child’s laughter rang out, carrying over the cobblestone and other buildings in the area.
The door jingled cheerfully as Jason pulled it open, and Frank followed him inside the cafe. Most of the tables were full- Frank counted no less than seven laptops, even more books, mostly groups of two or three studying over drinks and various pastries.
“From the college,” Jason said as he caught and followed Frank’s stare. “This building has some masking on it that makes it so that mortal technology can be used without sending up too bad a beacon. Most of the monsters get confused by the border to the valley anyway. Any preference to what you want?”
Frank scanned the menu, clear block lettering with the Latin translations underneath it. Another sign advertised braille or audio menus upon request, already making this place far more accessible than most shops back outside of New Rome. “I don’t have any cash on me.” And he hadn’t exactly thought to pack a debit card when the wolves had come for him. “I don’t need anything.”
Jason laughed warmly. “Don’t worry about it. Praetor’s salary. And in a few weeks, you’ll have a bit of spending money of your own.”
“Really? I’ll pay you back.”
“You don’t have to, consider it a welcome from me. And yeah, of course you’ll get a salary, along with days off, sick leave... Sure, we do keep most of it in a savings account that legionnaires can access after their ten years are up, but if you get discharged early due to injury, you can take it. You’re providing a service to New Rome Frank, of course we’d pay our army.”
Something must have changed recently, or maybe he’d just failed to be informed of it by his grandmother. She didn’t claim to be the end all of knowledge of what Frank’s stay was going to be like here, just to expect a bumpy ride. They reached the counter and Jason picked out a variety of muffins, expectantly turning to Frank once he’d finished his order.
Frank ordered a latte. With soy milk. Really was a shame that the cafe didn’t have Timbits, but he supposed that’s what you got when you moved to California because your father was a god from the Roman pantheon. No Tim Hortons to enjoy or woods to live out in solo with nothing but cold porcelain plates and whispered legends for company. He almost missed Jason paying, but the praetor handed him the box of pastries, pointing towards a table near one of the far windows in the cafe. A lone teenager sat there, the table he was at covered with a dozen rolled tightly scrolls and several clearly empty for-here cold cups. Frank wove through the tables with Jason close behind until they were standing in front of the teenager, their mumbling inaudible even up close.
“Leo.”
A flinch, the pencil dropping from Leo’s hand as he looked up at them. His slouch turned into perfect posture in less than a second, spine ramrod straight as the boy’s expression smoothed over panic to something neutral.
“Praetor Grace.”
“Jason.”
“I’m not calling you that Praetor. Who’s with you?”
Jason gestured with their lattes. “New guy. Walked in this morning fresh off of Lupa’s tutelage. Frank Zhang, this is Leo Valdez, he’s been with us for…”
“Five years in two weeks.” Leo supplied. “Where ya gonna stick him?”
“Fifth.”
The boy at the table regarded Frank again, one eyebrow raising. “Woof. I pity you then. Good luck newbie.”
His skin prickled with embarrassment and Frank crossed his arms, leaning forward. “What cohort are you in?”
Jason pushed between them a bit before they could get too much in each other’s space, but it didn’t feel invasive, more concerning than anything else. As if the praetor is attempting to protect them both at once. From each other. “Leo is currently in the Third Cohort.”
“You say that as if we can cohort hop.” Leo said. He shot Frank an almost mocking sort of grin, waggling fingers at him. There’s a dull flash to three of them, and as the boy reached back for the pencil he’d dropped on the drafting paper, Frank realized that they were made out of what looked like bronze. “Is there bets yet on how long until they keep outside all night for doin’ something wrong? Or worse, you think they’ll make him sleep in Hannibal’s pen? I want in on that pool.”
“No one is betting anything.” Jason countered evenly as he pulled out a chair at the table, sitting and urging Frank to do the same. “Hazing is not cool.”
“Hazing is very cool,” Leo muttered. “Don’t spill crumbs on my work. I’m already late on finishing this.”
“Oh are those–” Jason started as he tore into a muffin and took a drink from his latte.
“Not the new forge rework from last time we talked Praetor.” Leo interrupted. “Augur Aoide has so kindly requested that I assist him with his onager designs before he presents it to the Senate for the budget approval. The forges will have to wait.” He began to pack up the scrolls around him, stuffing pencils and various erasers into the front pocket of a bag that had been slumped unassumingly next to him on the remaining chair.
“Oh Leo, you can stay a b–”
The legionnaire stood abruptly. “Praetor. Probatio.” He nodded stiffly at them both. “Enjoy the rest of your drinks.”
At that, he briskly left for the door, abandoning the various cups and stray pencil at their table. The door jingled on Leo’s way out, cheerful against the tense atmosphere left behind. Jason laughed awkwardly as he picked at the muffin he’d claimed, shooting an almost shy glance to Frank.
“Sorry about that. He’s uh,”
A cactus? Deeply antisocial? Someone that Frank should avoid unless he found himself sleeping with whoever this Hannibal animal was? He did seem to be the textbook definition of what he was warned about- someone who didn’t want him in the legion. At least Leo’s icy demeanor had extended to Jason, so it wasn’t like Frank could take it personally.
Frank shrugged. “It’s fine. Is there something I’m missing about Fifth Cohort though?”
“Well, um,” Jason nervously picked at a stray blueberry from the muffin. “When I first came to New Rome- age four mind you, very bright for my age according to the praetors at the time,”
Frank’s heard the stories. Mostly from the guards that walked him in from the tunnel and over the Little Tiber to Jason’s office. Jason was a son of Jupiter, of course he was bright and let into the legion at age four instead of at thirteen when the majority of the Senate agreed on decades ago as the maximum youngest a person could be upon enlisting. And despite his age, he’d led the Twelfth Legion to glory a dozen times over, the latest instance not even a month earlier when Jason had single handedly taken down a Titan and cracked it’s throne. He was the pinnacle of what every legionnaire could only hope to be like, perfect in every way and supposedly praised by the gods themselves.
“The Fifth Cohort has had a bad reputation due to several failed quests in a row, the loss of the eagle. But we’re on the up and up now. You come to Reyna or I if anyone gives you trouble though, you hear me? Or if they try to punish you with any of the banned methods. Probaito gives you some wiggle room at least to mess up.” Jason ran a hand through his hair, blond strands puffing up like dandelion. “We’ll keep you safe. I was in Fifth before my promotion, and Reyna was in Fourth, so she knows what kind of crap my cohort had to deal with, she agrees the legion could use some net good change.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t worry, we’ve had Poena Cullei banned for at least six months, no one’s gonna try it on you.”
“Have had what banned?”
“Oh! It’s where you get sewn in a sack with snakes, maybe a weasel or two, and thrown in the Little Tiber with your cohort watching. If you survive, yay. If not, then the cohort doesn’t have to pursue further discipline I suppose. It felt a bit too barbaric for the modern era, and I’m surprised it lasted so long. First thing I did when I was promoted.”
“Is that how Leo lost his fingers?”
Jason looked surprised. “You noticed his hand?”
It had been kind of hard not to with the metal prosthesis and all. Frank shrugged.
“He didn’t lose it to that, or any other punishment, although there are a few retired legionnaires who have lost fingers to various banned forms of discipline. Leo was removing a wheel to one of the chariots his first few months of being here and accidentally crushed them in the process.” Jason sighed softly, shaking his head. “I felt terrible, I always do when anyone gets hurt, but his centurions took good care of him in recovery. Good people Lunella and Ty. They’re expecting their first kid next year, you know? They got married right out of retirement, can’t blame them.”
Frank sipped from his latte as Jason continued to ramble away about various retired legionnaires, members of the Senate that he’d get to meet over the course of his service. It’s idyllic out, a perfect summer afternoon in early September. He’s sure he’ll come to like it here, that New Rome will feel as much of a home as life had been before his mother died.
But, even with Jason’s easy assurances–
He still can’t help but feel wary.
.
.
.
With time, he’d probably get used to the idea of public baths. It was one thing to shower, back turned to the other members of his cohort and barrack-mates, but faced with the idea of using the Roman Baths just to soak and let the heat help his muscles relax, Frank had yet to attend. He wanted to pretend it wasn’t self consciousness, but it really was. It really did seem like half the time that the centurions were looking for any reason to belittle the lower members of their cohorts and Frank, as the newest enlisted, was now the designated target.
So he felt like he was justified at least a little bit for not wanting the mocking to follow him to the showers.
At the very least, the room leader for his barrack was understanding of his blight. When Frank had approached Joshua Baum three weeks after being on probatio, the legacy of Mercury had looked up from the crossword he’d been working on and shrugged at Frank’s request to go and use the baths once they were closed for the evening.
“You can try, but they’re typically closed and cleaned at night.” Joshua had said before penciling in another answer on the crossword. “They might let you in, but don’t push if they say no, capish? Already hard enough to think you’re done for the day only for your barrack to get slotted with cleaning up after everyone.”
That was all Frank needed to hear. He borrowed a towel from the stack that one of the spare half closets that their barrack hosted along the back wall and made his way into the city, the streets near empty with how late it was. Wasn’t quite curfew yet for the cohorts, he had at least thirty minutes before the night shift of legionnaires would start sweeping checks to make sure everyone was in bed. But Frank would be cutting it close with his heading out so late, so he quickened his pace as he made his way down through the streets to the bathhouses.
No sign or rope closing off the entrance. Must mean they were still open right? There was a rolling cart filled with used towels right off in the walkway, not quite blocking the way in. And it was the one that Frank recognized as normally parked in the lockers just past the showers, clearly whoever was in charge of helping maintain the area intended to take it to wash, so Frank didn’t bother with pushing the cart back to its spot as he picked his way deeper into the building. The locker area was still lit, lamps flickering as he stuffed his clothing into one of the open cubbies, swapping out regular sweats into a swimsuit specially for taking a soak in the baths. Did smell less like salt and chlorine, more of a lemony scent associated with cleaning products along sharp white vinegar that cut through the general dampness. He spent a few minutes under one of the showers along the far wall of the lockers, quickly washing down to not track in dirt from the barracks or his walk over and finally Frank felt ready enough to venture into the main bath area.
…Which was just as empty as the rest of the bathhouse. Odd, but not strange enough that Frank was going to look for whoever was supposed to be here cleaning. Maybe they got done early, or decided to take a break before sweeping up around the tiles that lined the slightly steaming pool of water. Wasn’t his part to worry about it anyway he mused as he carefully stepped into the water, sinking down enough that the only part of his body out was the top half of his neck and head. Frank closed his eyes and tilted his head back, feeling the tickle of water brushing against his hair as he slowly breathed.
It’s nice to have just a moment alone. The water was a perfect temperature that had his sore muscles from training starting to unknot, relaxing more as he basically floated in place. Frank felt like he hadn’t had more than a minute or two alone since arriving to the legion and while the bouts of loneliness are not missed, his privacy sure was in spades. Growing up alone without much more than his Grandmother for company and the few friends left him feeling deeply out of his element among his barrackmates, even if the feeling was slowly fading the longer that Frank spent here. Who knew, maybe by the end of his ten years of service, he’d find himself missing the constant company.
God. Hopefully not. Privacy was such a luxury.
He was too busy tuning out the world to hear the approaching footsteps and it’s only when someone else stepped into the water, disturbing the still surface of the baths, did the ripple alert Frank to another person. He jolted up, water splashing noisily as he turned and Frank froze, caught.
Ah, just the boy from the Third Cohort that Jason had introduced him to on his first day. Frank had run into Leo a few times since their first meeting– once when Centurion Dakota sent him to fetch ‘shield unsqueaker’ and when Frank had asked for help locating it, a ‘deeply annoyed to be interrupted’ Leo Valdez had informed him it didn’t exist, that it was just a prank. Another time, Leo had more than quite literally ran into him with a handful of blueprints he’d been carrying to the First Cohort. The papers had gone everywhere and Leo hadn’t even apologized for the crash, instead opting to ignore Frank as he gathered up the mess.
Leo sported the same disgruntled expression as the last two times they interacted. He’s fully dressed, unlike Frank, in a long sleeved black shirt with one sleeve pushed up to reveal his SPQR brand, the five lines under an anvil stark against tanned skin. His pants were similarly rolled up to mid calf, although that didn’t stop the water that he was standing in from soaking the bottom of the hem.
“The fuck you doin in here?” Leo snapped, pointing the broom at him. “I go to sweep the girls' side and you just sneak in? Did you not see the laundry cart?!?”
“Uh,” Frank said eloquently. “There was no sign?”
“You’re lucky I hadn’t set this side to boil! You never see a frog? The whole sitting in the pot thing until it dies cause it didn’t realize it was gettin cooked?!?” Leo stepped out of the water, pushing the broom as he began to sweep. “Fuck. Goddammit, why are you here?”
“Well, I wanted–”
“Don’t answer that. Rhetorical question Zhang.”
“I can get out? If I’m bothering you.”
A frustrated groan and Leo threw his hands up in the air, broom clattering to the ground as it was let go. Frank noted that the other boy was not wearing the false fingers, one of his hands only sporting two of the appendages. Guess that made sense, considering the prosthesis looked like it was made up of a bunch of parts that could rust the one time Frank had gotten a look at it. He did wonder if it made it harder to sweep or grip various cleaning products though. Also, shouldn’t someone be here helping him clean up? When the Fifth Cohort was stuck on bathhouse cleaning duty, the centurions usually assigned four people per side to clean up.
“No! Stay, get the fuck rested or whatever! You just have to be done when I am.”
“Oh. Um. Thank you?” That was nice(?) of him. Probably. Frank pushed towards the far side of the bath, sitting down on the steps under the water as he untensed. Leo muttered something under his breath as he gathered up the broom again, sweeping with his back turned to Frank. The broom provided a steady background noise to tune out and after a few moments, when Frank moved to float on his back to stare up at the open ceiling, he could almost pretend he was alone here.
He wasn’t sure how long they remained like that, Frank floating, Leo sweeping somewhere out of his peripheral vision, but eventually the water did shift as if someone else was kicking at it and Frank stopped his float, looking over to see that Leo was standing on the first step, steaming water lapping at his legs.
Frank was expecting to be told to get out. Instead, Leo sat down on the dry out of water tile with his feet dangling in, pulling a box out of his pocket. He flipped it open, pulled out a cigarette and at his fingertip, a small flame bloomed that he used to light the cigarette. Leo inhaled for a concerningly long moment through it, and when he breathed out the smoke, Frank wrinkled his nose at the minty smell.
“You’re seriously–”
“Hm. It’ll air out by morning.” Leo gestured at him with the cigarette. “Throwing myself a me party ain’t fucking illegal is it?”
“I mean,” wasn’t underage smoking illegal? Should Frank dare to mention it? He did like not being boiled, and Leo did know how to work the baths, so maybe it was just the best course of action to keep his mouth shut on his opinions of underage smoking. “How’d you do that thing with your finger?”
Leo took another drag of his cigarette. “Born that way. Decent party trick, can thank Vulcan I guess. Not that the bastard gives a damn if I’m grateful. You know how the gods get.”
“I don’t think I do, really.”
“Well if you don’t know, you’re sure about to find out real fucking fast Zhang. Trust me on this, they ain’t gonna notice if you don’t leave anything at their temples.” Leo nodded, blew some more smoke. “Why you floating so far out there? Come closer, no point in yelling when it’s this empty.”
Frank waded closer, still sitting a healthy distance away. Leo didn’t comment on it, just offering a raised eyebrow and his cigarette.
“No thank you.” He said politely.
“Your loss. Fucking seen nothing yet– you’re gonna want a vice in a month’s time. This shit kills faster than drinking at least.” Leo kicked his feet, water splashing morosely. “See that’s where the Senate gets ya, conscripts us on a dream and whim, fuck all be damned if you want to leave early because all you do is scoop horse shit all day and deal with dicks who just want their goddamn ego sucked like we got brothels. Think we’re still stuck in the glory days from the B.C. era, ha. Do yourself a favor and get a vice Zhang.”
“Oh. Uh, okay. I don’t..know what to do with that information?”
“Do whatever you want with it Zhang, you don’t report to me. Fuck you expect me to do if you don’t take it to heart? Send you to a centurion with a cat o'nine tails?” Leo sighed as he took one last pull from his cigarette, and then mashed the lit end of the cigarette into the SPQR on his arm. Frank lunged on instinct at the blatant display of harm, water splashing as he caught the boy’s wrist.
“What are you doing?!?”
“Chill.” Leo tugged his arm free, flicked the dead cigarette butt backwards onto the dry tile of the bathhouse. “Can’t fuckin burn me anyway. Perks of the fire thing.”
“You still shouldn’t get into a habit of harming yourself like that—”
“Why do you care Zhang? No one else does, so why the shit do you? You gonna repeat that I’m shredding up my lungs too if you give such a damn? What kind of probatio are you, acting like you know more because they haven’t squashed that starry look out your eyes yet?”
He…
Frank doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do. There’s not really a lot going for him here yet, and Jason’s kindness only protected him to a certain degree from the people outside the Fifth Cohort who would look down on Frank because of something his great great grandparent a billion generations back didn’t even do. All of his interactions with Leo up to this point have been neutral at best, and it’s clear as day that the boy in Third Cohort has no interest in engaging with Frank in any manner of friendliness.
But he still doesn’t think that just because Leo’s skin can’t burn means that he has a pass to do harmful things to himself. Mom always pushed the ‘self respect was confidence’ angle and it seemed like Leo just…
…Really hates himself. Or really hates Camp Jupiter. Both more likely, by his ‘advice’.
He didn’t get an opportunity to answer because Leo was already up and gone, the only noise of his departure the echo of his footsteps as he left towards the locker area.
.
.
.
“Zhang!”
Oh god. Frank should run, he could abandon these shields he was dragging to the armory for maintenance and just book it back to the barracks. He really should just flee instead of stopping and waiting for the voice to catch up to him. It had only been a few days since he’d made the mistake of being under Leo Valdez’s scrutiny, but since then, he couldn’t help but feel hypercritical of how Camp Jupiter ran.
Not that it ran badly. The opposite actually. Yeah sure, Frank was constantly experiencing mild hazing, but nothing further than biting comments and the general embarrassment that the Fifth Cohort boasted. That and his chores weren’t always told to be done in the most efficient way, his centurions clearly checking to make sure he was following orders no matter how absurd. Like now, where Frank was dragging fifteen shields to get polished and their leather straps replaced. Was there a better way to transport them to get maintained? Absolutely, but he was told to drag them from the training fields to the armory and so dragging it it was.
Leo called out his last name again and Frank paused, standing up straighter as he loosened the tension on the ropes he’d wrapped around the shields to drag them. The other legionnaire was dressed down compared to Frank– no armor minus some arm bracers and the pair of knives strapped to one hip– and as he got closer, he noted that Leo looked significantly less pissed off than that unfortunate night at the bathhouse.
“What are you doing?” He tilted his head at the shields in confusion. “Are you dragging these?”
Frank shrugged. “That’s how they told me to do it.”
“You know you don’t have to do it alone right? Here, shove aside, I’ll carry half for you.”
Was Frank in the twilight zone? What the hell was going on, this had to be some doppel, there was no way that Leo Valdez was being nice to him right now. But nope, Leo had already freed eight of the shields from the bundle that Frank had created, tying them together into a smaller stack that he hoisted over a shoulder.
“Why are you helping me?”
Leo shifted his shield stack, wobbling for a half second and he craned to look and meet Frank’s gaze. “I was kinda shit to you Zhang.”
“I mean, yes,” he feels like he’s missing something here. Romans, based on his observations, did not admit when they were jerks to each other. Most of the time they ignored that part unless a superior called them out on it. And even then, they were more likely to mutter an apology and then stuff scorpions in your shoes later as retaliation for getting caught. Not that Frank had gotten scorpions in his shoes yet, that had happened to one of his barrack-mates when someone in the Second Cohort got mad she had to apologize to a lowly Fifth Cohort legionnaire.
“Look, half the legionnaires here are gonna be like me when I got you in a corner for being way too close to breaking curfew. Whiny little bitches who are pissed they ain’t centurions or on the Senate despite having done jack shit to earn it. And I don’t want to be like them if you catch my flow? I was a dick to you for no reason, and you’re probatio, you already got enough dicks to deal with on the daily right? So I’m apologizin’ and letting you know that if I do that again, you can smack me for it, and I won’t even be a little pissed about it.”
“So…you’re trying to be my friend?”
“Fuck no. I’m making up for telling you life in the Twelfth Legion sucks and then fucking off back to my cohort to beat your cohort’s asses in war games tonight. Call this a truce.” Leo stuck out a hand. “I help you cart these to the armory and you pretend our little conversation in the baths never happened yeah?”
Frank reached out and shook Leo’s hand. “Okay?” He wasn’t going to be able to forget that conversation ever considering his chronic overthinking but Frank was worried what Leo’s reaction would be if he didn’t agree. And he could use the help with the shields. At the very least, he’d be less exhausted by only doing half the work.
“Great.” Leo started walking and Frank scrambled to gather up his half of the shields, stumbling after the shorter legionnaire once he had them. Leo was annoyingly quick despite having more weight than Frank, and he didn’t bother to make conversation the rest of the walk to the armory, staring resolutely ahead as his pace remained at a steady march forward. Unlike Frank, who had needed several breaks before being intercepted, Leo was unbothered with the walk, a fact that had Frank mildly jealous.
Maybe the endurance would come with training. The other did have several years of army service under his belt, and the drills that Fifth Cohort went through were rough, and although he’d finally gotten used to the early wake up for roll call, he was still struggling with not passing out from exhaustion the second they were called to stop during the grueling endurance hikes around the valley. Sure, it served a purpose- shape up the legionnaires- but in a modern era with cars, Frank felt like maybe the cohorts didn’t need to spend one day a week hiking in a nineteen mile loop around one half of the valley that housed them.
They made it to the armory and Frank dropped his shields with a loud thump, folding to wheeze as he held his knees. Leo laughed at the sight- not meanly much to Frank’s surprise, but more of a commiserating expression.
“You make sure to swing around to get some food on your way back. Centurions won’t be expecting you for at least another hour I bet.”
Food sounded like a great idea. Also sounded like a trap, considering he’d been told to come right back after taking the shields down. Frank cast a wary look at Leo, who shrugged.
“Just some advice.”
“Bath ‘pick a vice that’ll kill you’ advice or actual advice?”
Another laugh. “Well, you got me there,” Leo admitted. “But that’s just actual advice. Plenty of vendors lurking around, fuel is important for a growing legacy, blah blah blah, wouldn’t want to fall flat on your face during drills. Take care of yourself Zhang, and you’ll be surprised at how much more respect you’ll collect. Even if your great great-something did flood the entire fucking city.”
“You know about that?”
“Any misdemeanor and crime a legionnaire may have committed or been accused of is public record. Jason showed you on the tour right? That big marble building next to the forum the Senate meets at? Also– just on our personal little record betwixt us– I don’t think your grandpa or whoever it was actually flooded the city or caused an earthquake, Neptune legacies are notoriously weak and the Little Tiber floods every damn year because it’s a shit river.”
“Oh. Huh.” Frank hadn’t been paying attention by that point of the tour. He’d been tired, and Jason may be a welcoming figure, but the lectures on architecture and meaning of each building did get lost in the brainspace of Frank’s orientation memories and settling in. It was kind of flattering to think that Leo had looked up his legacy line though. “Do you…want to maybe go get something to eat with me?”
“Fuck no, we ain’t friends.” Leo said without wasting a beat. “Besides, I got to get on with my own tasks–like replacing all this shit leather on these shields. See you around Zhang.”
“Sure. See you around?” He replied. Leo nodded, seemed to decide against saying anything else, rocking for a half second on his feet. It was such a far cry from the night before and the angry teenager that he’d first held conversation with that Frank couldn’t help but let his own laugh slip out.
“What?”
“Just– nothing. Thanks for the help.” Frank straightened up, loosely shaking out his shoulders. “I’m gonna get back to my cohort.”
As he walked away, he couldn’t stop himself from looking back. Leo had crouched down next the shields, studying the fastenings with a scowl. Strange, the guy was, it felt impossible to get a proper read on his fellow demigod. But Frank didn’t really have time to ponder whys or the hows of what made someone as weird as Leo Valdez.