It seemed weird calling a teenager 'sir' but I'd learned to be careful with immortals. They tended to get offended easily. Then, they blew stuff up. - Rick Riordan

And,” Annabeth continued, “it reminds me how long we’ve known each other. We were twelve, Percy. Can you believe that?”
“No, he admitted. “So…you knew you liked me from that moment?”
She smirked. “I hated you at first. You annoyed me. Then I tolerated you for a few years. Then — ”
“Okay, fine.”
She leaned in and kissed: him a good, proper kiss without anyone watching — no Romans anywhere, no screaming satyr chaperones.
She pulled away. “I missed you, Percy.”
Percy wanted to tell her the same thing, but it seemed too small a comment. While he had been on the Roman side, he’d kept himself alive almost solely by thinking of Annabeth. I missed you didn’t really cover that.

"My brother broke into a toothy grin. "Yay! Your brain works!

"Two hundred Romans, and no one’s got a pen? Never mind!"

He slung his M16 onto his back and pulled out a hand grenade. There were many screaming Romans. Then the hand grenade morphed into a ballpoint pen, and Mars began to write.

Frank looked at Percy with wide eyes. He mouthed: Can your sword do grenade form?

Percy mouthed back, No. Shut up.