As if it's your last (private)

Phoebe left the restaurant with a shake of her mane. Really? Kellie could be such a precious doll sometimes. You said one thing to her and she immediately acted like you robbed her grandma. Of course, Phoebe was known for never being at loss of words -- and tonight was proof. She got comfortable with her friends, her ADHD and impulsivity worked against her, and people got mad.
She looked at herself in the window of a dark shop and rearranged her top on her waistline. She was dressed in elegant, colourful designer garb. Her neck and wrists sparkled with jewels. People turned around. She was about to get inside her limo when she noticed someone nearby -- someone familiar.

She immediately closed the door without stepping in.

"You! Hey, you!" she shouted over the noise of the street. The guy was obviously drunk, his bloodshot eyes unable to totally focus. But she knew him, she knew everyone at camp. She hurried over as fast as she could on her stilettos.

Rick was drunk--to be honest, he was always drunk. He would take a drink, then wander off from Camp, never having any particular destination in mind. Oftentimes, he'd rob a car in broad daylight, then crash it somewhere in the city. Today, he did just that, and he left the fumed vehicle to its ruins, strolling down the street shaking and holding his flask in his hand. He wore a lab coat with a bow tie, trousers and Nike trainers.

"Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you."

He mumbled. His mind couldn't think straight, though it managed to capture the sound of someone calling for him. Soon enough, he saw a girl running straight for him. He drew from his jacket the screwdriver bore by the Eleventh Doctor and pointed at her. The screwdriver was mere toy, for it served no purposes other than beeping loudly and glowing green.

"Step back, you. This tool is capable of turning that fat form of yours into skeleton." he groaned.

Phoebe sighed. This was gonna be fun. She nodded at one of her bodyguards, who came over and grabbed the demigod. ((Are you okay with that? Otherwise I can edit))

"Put him in the car, we need to bring him to safety before something happens to him."

"Yes ma'am."

Phoebe stalked back with bodyguard in tow; her driver opened the door to her limo again and let her in with a little bow. As soon as everyone was inside, she hissed at the son of Athena. "I know you're drunk but behave yourself until we're at mine, got it?"

He didn't acknowledge that he was being dragged--fortunately, he snapped out of it before the limo could start. He immediately snatched his sonic screwdriver out and pointed at his kidnapper, mumbling gibberish.

"Sta--ugh--y back, you fat rebel scum. The Emperor will not be - - ugh - - merciful."

He quickly kicked open the car door, with style, and ran outside, before collapsing on the floor, unconscious.

Phoebe sighed. Hopefully he wouldn't be like that all the time. "Just get him back in," she told her bodyguards, who obeyed with a nod. A minute later the demigod was back in the car, safely sat with his seatbelt attached as the driver weaved his way through the late night New York traffic. Phoebe took her make-up out of her purse and started refreshing her eyeliner with little strokes. By the time they pulled up in front of her place, she had achieved an Olympus-worthy cat eye.

"Help him up to the penthouse if you please," she said and made her way through the huge lobby with a clack of stilettos against marble.

|| For the record, Rick loves fat-shaming :P He's gonna mention Phoebe being fat at every chance he gets, then laments about how obesity is not beauty and such :P

He woke up, this time in a bed. The lights were out, he was wrapped in a blanket, wearing his t-shirt and jeans only.

"Mom? That you?"

A noise replied in the dark.

"I had--a horrble nightmare." he muttered half asleep, rolling in his bed. "Where I went back in time--and got kidnapped by a whale in a limo."

Phoebe strode into the guest room, dressed in an ivory silk bathrobe that brushed the floor. "That must have been me," she stated, biting into a pain au chocolat. "Rise and shine sleepyhead." With those words she flicked a switch and the curtains opened at once, sunlight bursting into the room which was probably painful to his hungover brain.

"Sleepyhead?"

He screamed and shot up from the bed. His mom never called him sleepyhead. Not that he ever interacted with her anyway. She was Athena, after all. Monitoring stupidity and eliminating it was too big for a 9 to 5 job.

Standing next to him was someone vaguely familiar. From Camp, probably. Whoever she was, she was f*cking fat. He hated it.

"F--f--fat." he stuttered, while secretly reaching for his socks and shoes. "Do they call it whale watching while you're swimming? I hope they do." He hated obesity. It's not healthy and definitely should not be practiced.

Phoebe sighed. "Person I've saved from a stupid drunken death seems to think I've never looked into a mirror. Now come have breakfast. Your stuff has been dry-cleaned," she added, nodding to the crisp clothes that sat on a chair in a neat pile.