Reeve pulled his wings closer to his back, ruffling his feathers to keep them dry under his now soaking sweatshirt. He stared hard at the cold pavement below him, kicking a rock with the toe of his shoe and sending it skittering into the foot of a businessman. Neither creature looked up or acknowledged Reeve did so.

Neither creature cared.

So… The subway, or Grand Central? Reeve dug Hawthorne into his leg. He risked getting caught if he slept in Grand Central Station again, but the subway wasn’t too appealing. Plus it was Wednesday. The last time he’d spent the night in the subway on a Wednesday, he’d been chased off by another demigod. Reeve couldn’t recall his name, but he did remember the black eye. Reeve shuddered from both the memory and the cold the rain provided. An anonymous man hit Reeve’s shoulder, clipping his wing. Reeve winced, but uttered a quiet statement of acknowledgement to the other man’s half-hearted apology. Neither creature looked up.

Neither creature cared.