“You are looking at me-” Percy starts, but he nearly bites his tongue as he’s yanked into the office and shoved into a chair. His ears are still ringing a little, but- “I was just looking for Frank-” Percy’s had far worse. He’ll deal with this, just like he’s dealt with everything else. When Hazel leaves the room, he half-rises from his chair with a vague idea of just fleeing, but then Hazel is back in a storm of concern and bouncing curls.
He tries to think of a lie – anything, really, to calm her down, but the only thing that comes to mind is kicked by a panicked unicorn and Percy’s never been hurt by an equine creature.
The sting of antiseptic brings him back to the present and Percy has to concentrate on not snapping his head back. He ends up frowning at his knees, reaching into his pocket to bring Riptide out and start spinning it restlessly between his fingers.
“It… it was some of his friends,” he admits quietly, glancing up at Hazel. “They, ah, didn’t appreciate my little hurricane in the war game-” a highly damaging, chaotic little hurricane that only Hazel and Annabeth know was the poorly-handled bud of a panic attack- “and they’re still convinced that I should’ve been, like, penalized for cheating. So.” He gestures vaguely to his face. “Penalty.”
He pauses again, then half-shrugs as his expression clouds over. “Figured I should let a Praetor know why they’re going to need medical attention next game. And why they’re all soaking wet if he sees them before they get back to the barracks.”