Tyson cowered in fear behind a large marble pillar while Percy tried to comfort him. "There there, it's ok." He breathed as he rubbed his brother's back. "The camp isn't going to be in any danger if you get borg'd, OK?"
A loud sniffle responded. "Do you want a push-pop?" Percy said, looking through the freezer for some sweet treat to console the sweaty cyclops.
Tyson turned to face his puny, pale pal and grunted "Don't patronize me, Punk." Percy raised his hands in pseudo-surrender and started pushing the pop himself. He had almost pushed past the plastic seal on top of the tube when a knock at the door sent the frozen terror flying across the room and into a rubbish bin.
"Buckets!" Annabeth yelled from Percy's room, where she wasn't allowed to go. But Percy would plan her demise later. He had other things to do, most important of which was to open the door. Percy grabbed the doorknob, but the door didn't open. he tried turning the knob, but that didn't do anything either. Frustrated, he decided to ditch the door and looked through the peephole instead.