[That's what he is thinking. Mrs. O'Leary didn't have to be one place long to drool buckets, especially when the sheets adsorbed it like a sponge. But here he was with the blame anyway and not really sure how to talk around it with Annabeth. His girlfriend was smart and upset at him already, and his feelings always was that she would win. But at the same time he didn't like the blame sitting on him if he could help it. So, he stood up with his hands out at his sides, not in defeat but in exasperation.]

Mrs. O'Leary could have found her way here the middle of the night? [He takes a guess.

Just before. Something else seems to hit him. He had a dream, didn't he. One of those demi-god ones that sometimes meant something important or sometimes didn't.] Or I could have wished her here. I remember dreaming about something.