They’re not dead,” I told the goat. “They both have pulses.” “Oh.” The goat sighed. “Well, give them a few more hours and they’ll probably be dead.” “What is wrong with you?” “Everything,” said the goat.
Poseidon put his weathered hand on my shoulder. “Percy, lesser beings do many horrible things in the name of the gods. That does not mean we gods approve. The way our sons and daughters act in our names…well, it usually says more about them than it does about us. And you, Percy, are my favorite son.