All right. We get the deal. Kids of Dionysus like alcohol. And substances. And the occasional Broadway show. They throw parties that people can't remember, just vivid memories of the absolute time of one's life, and it's enough to have other campers crawling back for more.

Is it a healthy method to cope with the trauma of being born a demigod? Obvious answer is no. But what's between Guest and a little bit of cider from time to time?

Jason Grace. Jason is who stands between Guest and his vices.

Unfortunately, Guest managed to slip out of the son of Zeus' careful eye one Friday evening. The Dionysus cabin was vibrating with the bass of a dirty song that repelled the younger campers. As alcohol blurred demigods' senses together,Guest fumbled through his cabin, already inebriated as he tripped over his own feet.

It did not take long for Jason to find him.

@Jason Grace: “Guest—” he hissed, weaving through clammy bodies and hot air. He reached out for the other boy's shirt, missing by inches. “Guest! You're drunk, don't you dare walk away from me—”

That earned a middle finger. How mature.

@Jason Grace: Jason, desperate, lunged forwards. His shoulder hit the cabin wall, but atleast he had a hold of Guest shirt now. “Look at you, you don't even know where you are right now.”

“Brazil,” Guest slurred confidently.

@Jason Grace: Jason blinked. “What? We're not... okay, sure, Brazil.” He then held up three fingers. “How many am I holding up?”

“Mmm... six.” That's definitely a good sign. 100%. Jason sighed and took Guest arm, slinging it around his neck.

@Jason Grace: “C'mon. You'll regret this in the morning,” he said, a slight strain in his voice as Guest leant on him. Jason lead him towards Cabin 1, away from the chaos.

Guest whined grumpily. “I regret nothing.”

@Jason Grace: Jason only rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “Because you don't remember what you're supposed to regret.”