everybody talks [open; slight trigger warning]

Perhaps, on a day like the one present, Damon should be finding better ways to spend his time; like going outside in the sun and trying to make the natural gold-tint to his complexion ever more prominent, or actually trying to get on with somebody and make friends, but instead he found himself sitting in a darkened corner of the amphitheater on his own, waiting for another group of campers to come and go. They always did that; Damon watched them as they completely ignored his presence, messed around tunelessly on the musical instruments before walking out. It happened every time, and Christos never did anything to really speak up for himself or in deed make his company known.

Because, for a child of Aphrodite, Damon was abnormally quiet; he was wary with people, because of how he had been treated growing up with the bullying and neglect, and his speech wasn't too good either considering his stuttering. No, he was the type of rare eighteen year old that just really listened, and what better place was there to listen to things than an amphitheater, where people were expressing there noise all the time?

Behind him, Damon heard the doors open again as he suddenly knew that someone else was going to join him, although he didn't expect to be noticed so he kept his head down, his golden eyes watching as his right index finger traced the line of scars running up the inside of his left arm, the ones closest to his bicep being the freshest. Movement out of the corner of his eye finally allowed Damon to perk his head up and look to the side of him, making eye contact with the first camper of the day as he was finally noticed instead of just being invisible.

ooc; come and join me in this bad opening post, although there may be a slight trigger warning so

Damon's first reaction to the girl and the contact he had made of her was to quickly try and avert his gaze as he looked away instead, moving his hands together and linking his fingers together. But then she spoke, and Damon threw another look at her out of surprise; not a lot of people spoke to him, because he really had that thing abut him that would openly show people that he wasn't good at speaking to people. He wasn't a social person, because he took so long and found it difficult to actually speak.

He just came to places like this to observe, not interact, and this girl was pushing him into doing that now. He considered ignoring her, although when she reduced the proximity, the option to ignore her became more and more rude. He studied her face, his own looking relatively innocent and his jaw lined with stubble. "No...you d-didn't d-disturb me." He told her, his stutter acting up. This is why he didn't speak to people, because it was frustrating at times and he was so used to being mocked for the way he spoke, "Uh..." His honey-brown eyes sifted to the hand the girl had extended, contemplating whether to shake it or not and finally choosing to do so, his hand seeing large in comparison to the girl's smaller one, "I'm Damon. Just...Damon." Then, after making the longest sentence he probably would all day, he returned to looking at his hands.

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He was alright guy, was Damon, although he didn't really like to talk and he wasn't good at feeling anything but moody and he was bad at socialising with people. Behind all of this, he was an alright guy. But Damon couldn't stop himself from leaning a little bit away from this girl as she excitedly went on, just nodding in a 'yes' notion. This was normally the part in which people moved away from him. "Aphrodite." He stated simply, his fingers playing with the strings of his bracelets on his left wrist.

Wondering if this was the longest conversation he had kept up in a long while, Christos' golden eyes flickered briefly over at Lexi before down one more, letting his tongue slide over his lips to moisture them, taking a moment to count, "b-bout four y-years?" He answered, looking down at himself then almost as if he had forgotten what he was wearing, before just nodding a 'thanks' at her.

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