[ Despite how much she tries to keep herself from thinking about her slow monster-fication, giving it a second's thought only serves to make her itch at her arms again. Do not pull down her sleeves - long, which she's rarely comfortable with unless it's armor, but she'd much rather cover them - but gently and subtly scratch at her forearms, with a frown that doesn't match the thoughtful look in her eyes.

From the implicit to explicit concession, Annabeth can't help but drink in how proud that makes her. She's used to it, having a theory about everything, regaling others with research. Because that's how you live. Every time, it fills her with a sort of warmth, like that's another week you won't be some monster's lunch! So, even in this dark cavern, in a little boat, her gray eyes light up. ]

My second hypothesis is one I'm still forming. [ The frown shifts to a smirk. Despite everything, this is...nice. Like the couple times Percy follows what she's saying, though him rolling his eyes and just staring at her is always nice too. ...No, it feels more like debate with her siblings. She misses them, so deeply. ] It could be both. I don't have enough information about the situation to say one way or another, after all.