We only came close to dying six or seven times, which I thought was pretty good. Once, I lost my grip and found myself dangling by one hand from a ledge fifty feet above the rocky surf. But I found another handhold and kept climbing. A minute later Annabeth hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. Fortunately, she found something else to put it against. Unfortunately, that something was my face. "Sorry," she murrmured. "S'okay," I grunted, though I'd never really wanted to know what Annabeth's sneaker tasted like.
I thought I'd lie on the floor and writhe in pain for a while," he grunted, "It relaxes me." "It does? Oh - you're being sarcastic. That's a good sign probably.
He studied my appearance carefully. “You cut your hair.†“Yes. Do you like it?†“That depends. How long is it?†I pulled a curl down and showed him it ended just past my shoulder. He grunted, “That’s still long enough, so I like it.†“Long enough for what?†“Long enough for a man to run his hands through.