As he explained what happened, Hestia sat down in her own chair beside him. The pit in her stomach seemed to sink as she saw him lay out what had happened. His voice sounded hollow, but his eyes told her he was seeing what had happened all over again. Mercifully - it didn’t seem like it, but Hestia had seen more gruesome deaths that she was glad Jimmy hadn’t had to witness - it seemed like his grandmother went rather quickly. Still...“Oh, Jimmy…” She sighed, her hand coming to rest on his back. He was pale as a ghost, and even felt clammy to the touch. Her hand drew little circles on his back while words seemed to glue themselves to the roof of her mouth.

When it came to death, Hestia wasn’t a stranger; but it was never a thing that she had let affect her in this way. It had never caused her nightmares, or her stomach to turn, and yet to see Jimmy like this, she wished she could spare him the experience and she felt a sinking feeling. A heaviness seemed to have settled over them in the small room. And when he told her he didn’t want to go home….shit. What the fuck was she supposed to do in this situation? She’d hardly expected to become a guardian to anyone except herself, and yet Jimmy had come to her after this tragedy. That meant something. That told her something had shifted. Because who else did Jimmy have to go to if he had come to her of all people?

Shit fuck shit fuckity fuck.

“You don’t have to go home, Jimmy,” She heard herself saying. And rather firmly. “You’re staying here.” There was no other option. She wouldn’t cast him out onto the streets, not like this. And technically this inn was never full to the brim. Nico was already living here, so what was one more person?

Shit.