Nico di Angelo wasn't used to the sound of laughter.

Not the kind that echoed through the Camp Half-Blood infirmary, anyway. Most of the time, the place was quiet, filled with murmured conversations, the occasional pained groan, and the soft rustling of bandages. It was a place of recovery, not joy. But today, the moment he stepped through the door, sunlight seemed to explode in his face—both metaphorically and literally.

"Whoa! Careful, shadow boy."

The voice was bright, amused.

Nico barely had time to scowl before the owner of the voice—a blond guy with a ridiculous amount of freckles—sidestepped out of his way, hands full of ambrosia squares. His orange Camp Half-Blood shirt was slightly wrinkled, the sleeves pushed up, revealing toned arms. There was a hint of sweat on his forehead, like he'd been running around all day.

"Excuse me?" Nico narrowed his eyes.

The guy grinned, completely unfazed. "Sorry, should I go with something else? Night dweller? Ghost king? Lord of shadows? I've got options."

Nico scowled harder. "How about just Nico?"

"Okay, just Nico."

The guy was clearly messing with him.

Before Nico could snap back, Chiron's voice rang out from the other side of the infirmary. "Ah, Nico! Good timing. Will was just preparing some medicine—"

"Will?" Nico repeated, realization dawning.

"Will Solace," the guy introduced himself, balancing the tray of ambrosia on one hand and extending the other. His grip was warm, confident. "Head counselor of the Apollo cabin, part-time healer, full-time ray of sunshine."

"That's… a lot."

Will shrugged. "Eh, keeps things interesting."

Nico hesitated. He wasn't used to people talking to him like this—so openly, so casually. Most campers either avoided him or looked at him like he was something out of a horror story.

"Anyway," Will continued, already moving past the awkwardness Nico was feeling, "Chiron said you needed to be checked out. Something about shadow travel exhaustion?"

Nico crossed his arms. "I'm fine."

Will gave him a look, one that Nico suspected he used often on stubborn patients. "Yeah, you're standing like you might fall over any second, so excuse me if I don't believe you."

Nico hated that he had a point.

With a sigh, he let Will guide him to an empty cot, where the son of Apollo started fussing over him—checking his pulse, making him drink nectar, all while humming a tune under his breath.

Nico watched him, something unfamiliar settling in his chest. He wasn't sure if it was irritation or curiosity. Maybe both.

"You're not going to stop, are you?" Nico muttered as Will handed him a fresh cup of water.

Will smirked. "Nope. Get used to it, shadow boy."

Nico rolled his eyes—but for some reason, he didn't mind as much as he thought he would.