Gods of Olympus.” Piper stared at Leo. “What happened to you?”
His hair was greased back. He had welding goggles on his forehead, a lipstick mark on his cheek, tattoos all over his arms, and a T-shirt that read HOT STUFF, BAD BOY, and TEAM LEO.
“Long story,” he said.

Festus just detected a large group of eagles behind us—long-range radar, still not in sight.”
Piper leaned over the console. “Are you sure they’re Roman?”
Leo rolled his eyes. “No, Pipes. It could be a random group of giant eagles flying in perfect formation. Of course they’re Roman!

If not for the horses, Piper would've died.

Forget the chicken-nugget smoke screen. Percy wanted Leo to invent an anti-dream hat.

I still don't understand what a sea god would be doing in Atlanta."
Leo snorted. "What's a wine god doing in Kansas? Gods are weird.

[Piper] rushed to get dressed. By the time she got up on deck, the others had already gathered—all hastily dressed except for Coach Hedge, who had pulled the night watch.
Frank’s Vancouver Winter Olympics shirt was inside out. Percy wore pajama pants and a bronze breastplate, which was an interesting fashion statement. Hazel’s hair was all blown to one side as though she’d walked through a cyclone; and Leo had accidentally set himself on fire. His T-shirt was in charred tatters. His arms were smoking.