Pratik

“Thunder boomed overhead. Lightning flashed, and the bars on the nearest window burst into sizzling, melted stubs of iron.
Jason flew in like Peter Pan, electricity sparking around him and his gold sword steaming.
Leo whistled appreciatively. “Man, you just wasted an awesome entrance.”
Jason frowned. He noticed the hog-tied Kerkopes. “What the—”
“All by myself,” Leo said. “I’m special that way.”
― Rick Riordan, The House of Hades

“Hey.” [Leo] squeezed her hand, though Hazel sensed nothing romantic in the gesture. “Machines are designed to work.”
“Uh, what?”
“I figure the universe is basically like a machine. I don’t know who made it, if it was the Fates, or the gods, or capital-G God, or whatever. But it chugs along the way it’s supposed to most of the time. Sure, little pieces break and stuff goes haywire once in a while, but mostly . . . things happen for a reason. Like you and me meeting.”
“Leo Valdez,” Hazel marveled, “you’re a philosopher.”
― Rick Riordan, The House of Hades

“The first time Calypso came to check on [Leo], it was to complain about the noise.
“Smoke and fire,” she said. “Clanging on metal all day long. You’re scaring away the birds!”
“Oh, no, not the birds!”
― Rick Riordan, The House of Hades

“She held up her calloused, grimy fingers. Leo couldn't help thinking there was nothing hotter than a girl who didn't mind getting her hands dirty. But of course, that was just a general comment. Didn't apply to Calypso. Obviously.”
― Rick Riordan, The House of Hades