Percy had been sitting there for what felt like hours, the whiskey in his hand barely making a dent in the chaos swirling in his head. The waves crashed against the shore like some kind of sick reminder that no matter how much he tried to drown everything out, it didn't stay down. Hell, nothing ever did.

He took another swig, eyes half-lidded, not really caring about much of anything at the moment. The night air was cold, but the burn from the whiskey kept him warm enough. Maybe that's why when he saw something out there in the distance, he didn't question it. It was just a shape, lying still, like a piece of driftwood someone forgot to toss back in the water. He squinted, his vision a little fuzzy, but it didn't look like anything he'd seen before.

Stumbling over, his feet dragging in the sand, he cursed under his breath. Was it an animal? A person? Who the hell would be out here in the dead of night?

When he finally reached it, his heart dropped into his stomach.

A fucking mermaid.

The thing—hell, he wasn't sure what to call it—was unconscious, half-covered in blood and saltwater, its tail half-submerged in the wet sand. He almost choked on his breath, reaching out to shake it. The damn thing was bleeding, its skin pale and shimmering even in the moonlight. He wasn't sure what to do, his mind too foggy with the whiskey, but instinct kicked in.

"Hey. Hey, wake up," he muttered, shaking the mermaid harder, but it wasn't until he looked at its face—her face—that he felt something in his chest tighten.

Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, all he could see were the shadows of panic in them.

"What the hell happened to you?" he growled, his voice rough from both the booze and the weight of his own frustration. "You're gonna be fine, alright?"