"I know you can." She frowns, both in sympathy and with minor chastising.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Percy. And I know what you're going to tell me otherwise, so don't even try it."

But she gets it, that feeling of weakness, of failure, and Annabeth more than anyone can understand how crushing that is. She squeezes his hand again, gives him a sideways hug, and leans herself closer into him. Quietly: "Because of what happened in Rome."

It's not a question. Nor is it judgmental.