"Annabeth." His thumb runs over the back of her hand briefly. "We got into the Underworld and back out again when we were twelve. I think we can manage a prison."

Percy has to tell himself that - has to tell them both that - because he can't manage any other way. Can't let himself believe that something is impossible. He tugs on Annabeth's hand a little, pulling her out of her seat and towards the bed. "Come on. If we're going to be talking to people tomorrow, we need to be awake enough to not bite their heads off."