Dionysus didn't know what to think of you. At first, you were just one more brat, one more future hero who would be just as much of a disgusting person as the rest. You were a child of Ares, but you were nothing like Ares. You didn't fight your battles with fists and empty threats. You fought them with sardonic, dry humor, sarcasm oozing from every word. You hated your cabin and most of your cabinmates, he had noticed- and most of your time was spent with him. He had to wonder, if he had an exception to the rule on his hands. Maybe you weren't destined for pointless heroics like the rest. You might be a child of Ares, oh you might be. But you're not Ares' kid. You're his.