"Oh, if I had had a friend at this moment, a friend in an attic room, dreaming by candlelight and with a violin lying ready at his hand! How I should have slipped up to him in his quiet hour, noiselessly climbing the winding stair to take him by surprise, and then with talk and music we should have held heavenly festival throughout the night!"

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That's because we keep weapons int the attic, silly boy. Do you think this is the first time monsters have attacked our family?" "Weapons," Frank grumbled. "Right. I've never handled weapons before." Grandmother's nostrils flared. "Was that sarcasm, Fai Zhang?" "Yes, Grandmother." "Good. There may be hope for you yet.

— Rick Riordan