“Hey, where are you going?" His voice, confused yet curious, called after me. "Hey. Why didn't your mother name you Maybe, or We'll see, or What's-Your-Number? That way, we could call our first born Absolutely.”

“Hey I just met you,and this is crazy,but here's my number,So call me maybe?It's hard to look right at you baby,But here's my number,So call me maybe?”

“Could you just call me Pigeon?” he asked the teacher when she read his name.“Does your mother call you Pigeon?”“No.”“Then to me you are Paul.”...“Nathan Sutter,” the teacher read.“My mother never calls me Nathan.”“Is it Nate?”“She calls me Honeylips.”

“Right. The Briars. Just a second, Princess. Hey, Rusty,” he called, motioning to Ironhorse, who pinned back his ears, “why don’t you walk ahead of us, huh? I want your big ugly ass where I can see it.”

“Little sister!" Apollo called. If his teeth were any whiter he could've blinded us without the sun car. "What's up? You never call. You never write. I was getting worried!"Artemis sighed. "I'm fine, Apollo. And I am not your little sister.""Hey, I was born first.""We're twins! How many millennia do we have to argue—”

“Hey, you called me Sam. My actual name. Not Master or dumbass—” “I have never in my life called anyone dumbass.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. Now, focus.”