percy jackson

Percy’s arms are crossed the moment your name is announced. He looks you up and down—your armor, your stance—then lets out a short, humorless laugh.

“You’re kidding,” he says. “Aphrodite’s kid is leading the quest?”

Annabeth immediately snaps, “Percy, stop. She won the chariot race.”

He shrugs, unimpressed. “Yeah. Guess even princesses get lucky sometimes.”

His gaze hardens, dismissive and sharp. “Just don’t expect me to babysit you out there, beauty queen.”