Percy sets his weapons on the table. It's ridiculous to cart them around like this, but he isn't eager to let them go, either. He sinks into the chair that's in front of the bowl and rubs his fingers through his damp hair, pushing it back from his face.

"Something a bit stronger, if you have it."

Now that he's somewhere that feels safe (is it?), Percy can feel the exhaustion creeping in. He's been running on adrenaline.

"How many of you live here?"