Childish
She recognizes that it's obscenely juvenile, not to mention it's horribly uncharacteristic of the great Annabeth Chase, but the little girl buried deep inside her simply cannot help it.
Absentmindedly, she'll scratch it into her diary – notebook – while drawing up plans for a new chariot design. She'll find herself tracing the familiar pattern in the sandy shores of the Sound, and hastily wipe it away with her foot, gods forbid anyone should notice. Once she even carved it into the bottom of the lunch table by mere muscle memory, and by the time she realized it, it was already lights out. She had been forced to sneak past her brothers and sisters in the dead of the night to sand down the stone, lest her dignity be tainted by such a scandalous masterpiece.
Though, the Fates must find her less than favorable, for when she asks Malcolm to bring her the map of the Bermuda Triangle that she had drawn up after last summer's quest, he brings her the notebook instead. And, in her haste to snatch it away from him, she realizes gravity must hate her too, for it falls to the cabin floor and promptly explodes in a flurry of papers.
She darts to the pages and quickly tries to shove them back in their binding, but Malcolm is quick too, and he plucks one of the papers from her hands. She has a hard time concealing her blush now.
"Annabeth... you cannot be serious."
He's red from the effort not to laugh, and she's red with embarrassment as she rips the page from his hand.
A page that is covered with the mantra, "Mrs. Annabeth Jackson," bubbled in perfectly shaped hearts.