But Annabeth doesn't take an Uber to the tattoo parlor, now, does she? She doesn't like cars very much. She doesn't like driving either. She'll never admit it, but she's one of the worst drivers on the planet. You'd think she'd be better at it, considering she drives through L.A. rush hour traffic to work five days a week, but nope. Annabeth still sucks ass.

She sits on the curb and unlaces her roller skates. Oh yes, Annabeth's alternative mode of transportation is a pair of brown roller skates with big orange breaks on the front. They're one of her best curbside finds if you ask her. Why would the roller rink throw out perfectly good skates? They don't even smell bad, and they're just her size. Plus, they're already broken in, so she doesn't even have to worry about blisters.

The skate to the tattoo parlor was thirty minutes at least, unfortunately. "Saving up for a motorcycle," Annabeth reassures herself. It's become a daily affirmation of hers. When life gets you down, just remember: Saving up for a motorcycle! Never mind that she doesn't know how to ride one, or that she hasn't even begun to look into permits and licenses.

She tucks her skates away in her backpack and replaces them with her high-top Converse. That's another thing that sucks. The low Converse sneakers she used to wear gave her more mobility in her ankles, and she could get around faster in them, but when she broke her ankle the third time, Will bought her a pair of high-tops. He said that they would help to keep her from rolling her ankle and breaking it a fourth time. It must be working because she hasn't broken her ankle since.

Annabeth made a wiser outfit choice today than she had yesterday. She's wearing jean shorts, for starters, so she won't have to take her pants off again. Her hair is pinned up with chopsticks, per usual. Her teenage self's iconic ponytail can stay on the Argo II.

A little bell rings when she steps into the parlor. Funny, she didn't notice that at the last sitting. Must've been the nerves.

Monique rushes to greet her. "Welcome back!"

"Happy to be here," Annabeth says. "Can't go back to work this evening with an unfinished tattoo, now, can I?"

After hours of coloring and some finishing touches, the tattoo turns out awesome. Monique really did a good job. Annabeth can't wait to show this thing off. Percy who?

Annabeth Chase is a fucking badass.

Annabeth Chase is a fucking badass who is going to need to buy some more shorts and tiny skirts so people can actually see her new tattoo.

Monique wipes the excess ink from the new image on her thigh.

Annabeth can see herself in a mirror. Maybe she should look into fishnet tights? She could rock the grunge look.

"What do we think?" Monique asks.

"It's so cool; I love it. Thanks so much," says Annabeth. It's the truth. It's the coolest tattoo ever.

"So, this might be kind of weird of me to ask..." Monique starts.

Oh, shit. Is this what Annabeth thinks it is? Monique's really pretty, but Will...

"I'm trying to work on my piercings, so I was wondering if you'd be interested in helping me practice? It would be free of course since I'm technically not a professional yet, but you have a really good face for something I've been wanting to work at..." Monique trails off.

Annabeth's a little confused. Her lobes are already double-pierced, and her ears just aren't right for a cartilage piercing (she's tried that already- not a pretty sight).

Wait. Did she say face? Like a nose ring?

"Have you ever seen snake bites before?" Monique asks.

For some reason, Annabeth entertains this idea. "If I have, I don't know them by name," she says honestly.

"That's how most people are," Monique says. She pulls up a picture on her phone of her and another girl posing on a boardwalk. One of the first things Annabeth notices are the piercings just under the other girl's lip. On each side is a green stud. They're so bold that Annabeth almost doesn't consider that maybe Monique has an ulterior motive in showing this picture in particular. Still, Annabeth's pretty sure she's seen piercings like those before.

Monique explains even more. "They're called snake bites because if you took a snake's fangs and, you know..."

Annabeth gets it.

"Or," Monique says. "We could do spider bites. I'd just stack the piercings next to each other on the same side. I think you'd look cute with those."

Spider bites. Wouldn't that be ironic? Probably the only thing Annabeth hasn't grown out of is her arachnophobia. Being attacked by spiders as a child does that to you though.

But still...

"Fuck it," Annabeth says. "Let's do spider bites."

"Omigosh really?" exclaims Monique. "Thank you, thank you so much! Let me just get a waiver and another needle. We should probably do studs 'cause rings are more likely to get infected right away." She continues to ramble as she sterilizes a needle.

Annabeth really just agrees to all of this. She wants to show up all of her old friends at this wedding, but is she really going for the shock factor?

She's in too deep now. Monique is excited. Maybe that should worry Annabeth, but for some reason, it adds to the thrill of doing something crazy, and this is fucking bonkers by her standards.

"How do we feel about black studs?" Monique asks. Annabeth smiles at her usage of the royal 'we' as if they're both about to have needles stuck through their faces.

"I like it. Goes with anything, right?"

Teenage Annabeth is trapped somewhere in her brain screaming 'Di Immortales!'

Teenage Annabeth can suck a dick, Present Annabeth thinks.

The needle hurts, for sure, but Annabeth's had worse.

"Are we good?" asks Monique. "You're sitting like a rock."

Annabeth can't respond without stabbing her gums more than she'd like, so she gives Monique finger guns.

The first stud is secured and Monique pulls back. "For real though. How do we feel?"

"I feel like I'm having my breakup crisis ten years too late." It's Percy she's referring to, obviously. Annabeth hasn't dated seriously since. Sure, she's gone on dates, and she even dated an ex-hunter for about a month until they realized she's that Annabeth Chase. Things just got awkward from there.

Monique laughs as she shakes out her hands. Annabeth swears there are beads of sweat seeping through the purple latex gloves, but decides not to point it out. Shouldn't Annabeth be the nervous one anyway? Her whole mouth tastes like blood and metal. She wonders, will the metallic taste of the stud go away over time, or will she just get used to it?

The needle goes back in, and it doesn't hurt as much this time, probably because Annabeth knows what to expect now. Monique is super duper close. Annabeth can feel her hot breath on her chin.

"Okay," says Monique. "Now that might be some of my best work, or maybe you're just that pretty."

"Who, me?" Annabeth flirts back. Wait... what?

Monique hands Annabeth a mirror. Those piercings are probably the first thing people are going to notice about her now.

Like, "oh, you know Annabeth?"

"Yeah, that girl with the wicked sexy piercings?"

Maybe that's not such a bad thing. It's better than being the burnt-out war hero.

Anyway, the kiss isn't so bad.

Yeah, they're kissing now, Annabeth and Monique. It's a good kiss; it says a lot. Like, Monique is going to top Annabeth right here and then buy her a meal.

And then they're going to go out on a couple of dates, enough dates that Annabeth might even have to explain why weird things happen when she's around, where her mom really is, and why she wakes up in the middle of the night screaming on occasion.

And that's all going to scare Monique off. And Annabeth's going to be really, really, upset because even though she'll promise herself she won't, she'll start to imagine a future for them, something permanent.

Damn, that kiss says a lot.

But that's not who Annabeth is. Not anymore. Annabeth's more of a 'buy me a couple of drinks and then I'll top you' kind of person. She doesn't go on real dates or dump her trauma on other people anymore.

She pushes Monique off. She'd been so distracted that she hadn't even noticed they'd gone horizontal.

"Listen, maybe this is a bad idea. I mean, I'm down to make out another time, but I'm kinda sore already..." Annabeth trails off, awkwardly gesturing to her lip.

Monique pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. "Oh, okay. That's fair. Let me get you something to help with that."

Monique disappears into a closet and Annabeth gathers her bearings. It's not a lie; her face is sore. Fuck, she'll probably have to drink using a straw for a while. Will's never going to let her hear the end of it.

"There ya go." Monique hands her a white bottle. "Try to turn the piercings a few times every hour so it doesn't heal too tight." She hands Annabeth a pen and a pad of sticky notes. "Do you think I could get your phone number? I'd love to see you again."

Annabeth has been getting caught off guard a lot lately. "Oh, uh, I actually don't have a phone." She grabs her backpack.

She can't get out of there fast enough.