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Hermes lets out an honest to god whistle as he sees it. Percy had expected some kind of dramatics from the god but really, this is over the top.
“Poseidon’s not cutting any corners with you.” Hermes says. “Can I see it?
“You can see it just fine.” Percy grumbles, but raises his hand for Hermes anyway.
On his middle finger is a green-ish blue gemstone on a ring made of celestial bronze; one of his father’s heirlooms. It’s similar to Thalia’s silver bracelet and Nico’s skull ring, allowing him to manipulate the mist.
A few weeks ago, monsters ambushed him at NYU. Percy easily disposed of them (most were barely on his radar after fighting literal gods), but the mist made it look like he was attempting another round of domestic terrorism. Since he wasn't a kid this time, the government hadn't been… gentle.
His mom had panicked. When Chiron hadn’t pulled through, “Oh well, Percy's lucky he survived this long–it’s better than being eaten,” Sally had gotten ahold of Tyson, Thalia and Nico. The latter two had manipulated the mist to trick the mortals into letting him go while Tyson half carried him out in the heavy rain, straight to Atlantis.
(With good timing too, Homeland security had just transferred him to the CIA).
His dad had been beyond furious. Percy had been half delirious with drugs, sleep deprivation and mild starvation. It had reminded both of them of Tartarus, and triggered repressed memories for him, and set off his father’s protective rage.
(Later, with dark satisfaction Hermes told him that Poseidon had razed the compound to the ground; no survivors. Hundreds dead. Meteorologists were at a loss because hurricanes didn’t behave like that. Government officials were blaming the Russians, panicking at the idea that they had found a way to control the weather and weaponize it).
Apparently done his inspection, Hermes lets go of his hand. “How are your mist manipulation lessons coming along?”
“Pretty good. Dad told Delphin to teach me, but he’s been crashing our lessons and doing half the teaching himself. I’m a natural apparently?” Percy shrugs. “It helps that the mist behaves like a fluid, and I specialize in fluid manipulation.”
“Good. That never should’ve happened to you. After everything you’ve done for us, everything you’ve been through…” Hermes rests his arm over Percy’s shoulders, in a half hug. “I’m glad you’re alright.”
“Me too.” Percy replies, hugging his friend back.
“You know, if you want I could show you a couple of tricks with the mist. Very important stuff like tricking mortals into thinking their hair has turned neon-coloured, making everything in their house look like it’s moved two inches to the left…”
“I’m not one of your prankster kids, Hermes.”
“Well no–if you were my kid I would’ve gone completely gray–but you embody so many of my domains you might as well be one of my descendants.”
“I’m not using the mist for pranking.”
“But what if-”
“No!”