Percy
He walked back into the tall building he'd escaped from a few days before, smack in the middle of New York City. He swallowed hard as he looked around the grand lobby. When it had first been built Annabeth had gone on and on about how it was such a shame that one of the greatest architectural marvels in the city was such an eyesore. As he and Steve approached the elevator, Percy started to hyperventilate. Visions of Tartarus and fighting through his hordes to get to the Doors of Death began to flash across his mind. He struggled to keep his expression bland and his breathing even. Or to breath at all. A warm hand landed on his shoulder.
"Hey, kid. You ok?" Steve's voice registered in his mind slowly. Percy swallowed heavily before answering in a strained voice.
"Umm. Yeah. I just don't like elevators." He muttered back. Steve looked at him worriedly but Percy forced a wane smile and stepped over the threshold. He gripped the handrail so tightly his knuckles turned white. The elevator music sounded sinister, and Percy could practically hear the echoes of the rattling howls and screeches he and Annabeth had listened to as they'd held the doors shut during that one horrible trip. His chest tightened and his breathing became even shakier.
Then with a sudden ding the doors opened. Percy stumbled out of the elevator as quickly as he could manage on his shaking knees.