“Jason's fingers itched to draw his sword. He'd met plenty of scary demigods, but he was starting to realize that Nico di Angelo--as pale and gaunt as he looked--might be more than he could handle.”

“He turned, registering a face with blond hair, and for a split second he thought it was Will Solace. When Nico realized it was Jason, he was disappointed. Then he felt angry with himself for feeling that way.”

“No," Frank said. "I'm only a centurion."

Jason cursed in Latin. "He means he can't control a whole legion. He's not of high enough rank."

Nico swung back his black sword at another gryphon. "Well, then, promote him!”

“Nico drew his sword. His smile was even more unsettling than his scowl.

"Underground," he said. "My favorite place."

Underground wasJason's favorite place.”

“[Jason's] body was bare, so that he looked like Apollo of the golden sword as much as Ares god of war.”

“That whom he could not by the sword destroy, he might supplant by the law.”

“His face was gaunt, scraped and bloody, his hair dusted with cobwebs, but when he locked eyes with her, she thought he had never looked more handsome.

Percy & Annabeth”

“He found oddly little regret in his heart for his own lost life. He'd seen more of the world than most men ever did, and he'd had his chances, though the gods knew he'd made little enough of them. Marshaling his thoughts, as he sheltered under his covers, he realized with some wonder that his greatest dismay was for the work he'd be forced to leave undone.”

“Somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made it a point not to scratch it. He was afraid of what might come leaking out.”

“…in his fingers he has more skill than any of the rest of us.”