“We still should have enough time to reach Rome.”Hazel scowled. “When you say should have enough…”Leo shrugged. “How do you feel about barely enough?”Hazel put her face in her hands for a count of three. “Sounds about typical for us.”

“Annabeth gripped the hilt of her dagger. “A bounty on our heads . . . as if we didn’t attract enough monsters already.”“Do we get WANTED posters?” Leo asked. “And do they have our bounties, like, broken down on a price list?”Hazel wrinkled her nose. “What are you talking about?”“Just wondering how much I’m going for these days,” Leo said. “I mean, I can understand not being as pricey as Percy or Jason, maybe . . . but am I worth, like, two Franks, or three Franks?”

“I got to thinking—when it was too late—you have to reach out to people. To your family, too. You can't just let them sit there, you should put your hand out. If they slap it back, well you reach out again if you care enough. If you don't care enough, you forget about them, if you can.”

“He says when you're smoking a cigarette with someone, and you have a lighter, you should light their cigarette first. But if you have matches, you should light your cigarette first, so you breathe in the 'harmful sulfur' instead of them. He says it's the polite thing to do. He also says it's bad luck to have "three on a match." He heard that from his uncle who fought in Vietnam. Something about how three cigarettes was enough time for the enemy to know where you are. Bob says that when you're alone, and you light a cigarette, and the cigarette is only halfway lit that means someone is thinking about you.”

“Hazel used his trick. "They got no starfish there?""They got no ocean there" said Doc."Oh!" said Hazel and he cast frantically about for a peg to hang a new question on. He hated to have a conversation die out like this. He wasn't quick enough. While he was looking for a question Doc asked one. Hazel hated that, it meant casting about in his mind for an answer and casting about in Hazel's mind was like wandering alone in a deserted museum. Hazel's mind was choked with uncataloged exhibits. ...”

“Leo,” Hazel gasped, “I can’t—my arms—”“Hazel,” he said. “Do you trust me?”“No!”“Me neither,” Leo admitted.”