It’s ridiculous how easily the words ‘you’re it’ combined with a smirk and a shove rile her up with stupid levels of challenge accepted, stupid enough to get her running down the crowded Manhattan street in a light downpour after him. His laughter trails behind him as he runs into people with hurried apologies, but Annabeth’s always been faster, and she doesn’t spare the time for her own manners - she needs to win.She catches up to him and smacks his shoulder, turning on her heels to dart in another direction as the rain starts frizzing out her hair; she can hear him plowing through on her tail, and she hops over the stone wall into Central Park to avoid capture, only to find herself falling into a pile of colorful leaves on the other side. It takes her a moment to burst free, but by the time she does, Percy’s flopped into the pile, too, and he grabs her round the waist to tug her right back down against him, where he only laughs at her creatively curse-filled protests. "This doesn’t count as a win," she says grumpily, pulling a leaf from her forehead as he steals a quick kiss that she thinks is about to turn into something more, only he pushes her over into the leaves instead and taps her arm ("Oops, you’re it again") before jumping out with record speed - because he has about five, maybe ten seconds before she tackles him into the mud and takes the endgame victory.