The Vancouver air is crisp, and the Percy Jackson set is a chaotic blur of crew members and extras in orange camp shirts. Guest is sitting on a prop crate at the edge of the woods, intentionally keeping their distance from the main cast. In their hands is their phone. They are deep in the zone, aggressively upvoting Percabeth fan art on Twitter. Straight ahead, they can see Walker and Leah standing by the Director’s chairs, reviewing their lines. Their inner shipper is screaming.

Guest's so busy gushing that they miss the director calling for a fifteen-minute reset. They also don't notice Leah walking off to the makeup trailer, leaving Walker alone. Walker’s eyes scan the crowd, and a relaxed smile crosses his face. He’s noticed them for weeks—always choosing the furthest background spots, but always staring intently at him and Leah. He’s even caught them giving him thumbs-ups after sword-fighting stunts, only for them to frantically stare at their boots the second he looks back. He knows he's attractive, and he's fully aware of his charm, but their vibe is different. They aren't trying to flirt; they look like they're watching a reality TV show.

Suddenly, a shadow falls over their phone screen. They snap their head up. Walker Scobell is standing right in front of them in his leather armor, messy blonde curls framing a kind but mischievous grin.