Welp, that backfired.

"He's right, I don't."

"I doubt discussion is what's really on your mind."

"Gods, no. I'd like for you to grow up, once in a while, but that's a whole different story. By the way, if you really were father of the century, you'd know that I've always been petty. This isn't new."

Jaw clench. Poseidon's right, but he's not happy about admitting it. "Perhaps if you spent less time chasing after cheap thrills and more time doing your actual job, I wouldn't be like this. Wow, a whole hour? Lucky girl."

Please. He doesn't want to be like him. "It matters, because when you make an utter mess of something because you're too distracted, who has to fix it? Oh, that's right. Me. So you're just being as quick as possible then, huh? I bet she's 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙."

He already is. "You wouldn't last thirty seconds without me, and I'm pretty sure you know it. Honestly, I'm pretty tired of having to watch my father break my mother's heart, so I guess we're both fed up, aren't we? Go have fun. If you need me, I'll be doing your job."

Good morning to everyone who isn't Poseidon.

The next person to start singing 'Under the Sea' is going to get a trident to the knee.

Get out.

Absolutely not. He loves that stupid song.

One of these things is not like the others.

He's been summoned?

It took three whole seconds to disagree? Is that a record?

Yes, but this time it's a momentous occasion. Can't a son summon his father without it seeming suspicious? (It's because the clams are singing and he can't get them to shut up).

Good evening. He too hates plastic. That's all.

Start with the ones that are too lazy to recycle.

He would like to volunteer to help.

He is one-hundred percent in on this plan.