She used to believe that of herself in all honesty, but if she really sits down to think about it, believing so is dangerous. It's - it's her fatal flaw, and she's been confronted with that that means in terrible ways lately. But she smiles anyway when he says it.

And then Annabeth waits, because she knows that look on Percy's face, that he's doing the kind of thinking that isn't worth teasing over.

He presses his forehead to hers, and she closes her eyes with the words. But it's out of relief to hear it. Things have gotten better in ways over the last few months, but there'd been an uncertain undercurrent at the same time, and Annabeth knows it was Percy trying to deal with - everything. All she could do was try and keep anchoring him.

That he can say it, we're going to be okay and mean it more than he has in ages - it's more than a good sign, really. It adds weight to the hope. They can and will get through it. She opens her eyes again, slips her hands up to cup his face. "Yeah," she starts, believing it a lot more wholeheartedly herself now, too; Percy's hope has always helped hers, even when she's been the one channeling more optimism lately. "I think so, too."