Not typically sporty (Chaos)

Max pulled the lace of his shoe one last time. He just finished trying his new shoes on. He stood slowly, and looked down at them. They felt pretty light. Bouncy, at least. Max turned and walked over to the wooden benches and set down my shoes and water bottle there. He turned to look out on the vast court. There were like two other people playing and practicing. He hoped they would keep their distance. He didn't feel in the mood to embarrass himself. He let out a breath. His mismatched color eyes looked around for basketballs, finally focusing in on one in the corner. He jogged over and picked it up, bouncing it. He took a step back as it bounced up at his face, barely missing his nose. This was probably going to be painful. He bounced it again, then caught it. "Okay, let's see how well this goes," He muttered to himself. He jogged over to a basketball goal and stood on the free throw line. He had never tried basket ball before. It wasn't really his type of sport. Archery all the way, but Max recently decided to give it a go to try and fit in just a little bit better. After all, it couldn't hurt to give it a shot...or could it? He hesitated but bounced the ball repeatedly, getting a rhythm going. Then, he stopped and looked up at the goal. His eyes judged the distance like they did for archery, and he jumped, letting the ball go. It left his hand, and sailed through the air, hitting the backboard perfectly square and falling into the basket. Max grinned widely. It didn't actually seem to hard. He jogged over to the ball, retrieved it and tried a few more times. He couldn't help but smile. He missed once and a while but it wasn't too difficult. He made a mental note to come here more often.

Max was having a great time shooting baskets for no reason, but the two guys playing at the opposite end were making quite a ruckus, and as the afternoon hours approached, so did the looming threat of bunches of campers coming to play. Max caught the ball as it bounced off the back board and into his hands without making a basket. He swiveled his head around, glancing at he surrounding people. There were campers watching the heated basketball game behind him, but his eyes clicked onto one boy who was watching him. Why was he watching Max? Max thought of himself as nothing more than one of the lowest-lying campers. He quickly looked away to break eye contact. It was strange to be watched. He bit his lip, debating on whether to stay or not. Looking up, he shot one more basket, which missed because he was nervous that he now had an audience. He then walked over to the bench where he first sat while tying his shoes. He took a swig of water and took off his gym shoes, putting on his stereo typically gay toms.

Max set his gym shoes next to him and took another gulp of water. He decided he would move on to archery now, seeing as he already had his bow and arrow next to him. Besides, he'd had enough embarrassment concerning sports for one day. It was time to do something he liked and was good at. He slung his quiver of arrows over his shoulder and picked up his bow before he stopped. His muscles contracted together out of nervousness, because he was now not alone. A boy sat next to him. He looked like a nerd, not that Max was judging. It actually wasn't a bad thing. It was like those cute hipster nerds that you saw all around New York. He began to talk, and Max looked down at his own toms, and then back at the guy. He opened his mouth to respond with likely a one-word answer before he was cut off. The boy began speaking again. "It's okay," Max said. Okay, so he wasn't exactly to be described as having a way with words. A couple seconds of an awkward silence passed between the two before Max spoke again. "Oh, you play basketball?" he asked. Pretty close to a full sentence. That was great socialization considering it was, well, Max.

Max listened to him laugh. Was it a stupid question. Upon hearing the answer, it obviously was. This guy was way flaming. Guys like that made him a bit nervous, especially since he just admitted to have been watching Max for the sole purpose of seeing some man candy. Max watched as the boy took off his glasses to wipe them clean. He really was pretty cute... Max bit his bottom lip. "No," he said, simply. He had never tried basketball in his entire life. "Max," he replied, again with one word. He looked down at the hand waiting for a hand shake. He raised his own, scarred hand from thorns back at the farm. "My name's Max," he repeated, Irish accent extremely evident. shaking the hand. In contrast, the boy now known as Dylan had a rather soft hand. He quickly let go after shaking his hand. Dylan oggled some shirtless guy and Max looked away. This was hard. Max would much rather be at the archery range now. Dylan was cute, yeah, but made him extremely anxious.

Max withdrew his hand when Dylan let go and set it nervously on his bow. Dylan seemed flustered when talking to Max. This wasn't a first, people have often been flustered whilst talking to him. People have told him on multiple accounts that this is because he is cute, but he refuses to believe so. More commonly, Max gets flustered when he speaks to people. This is for reasons already obvious. Dylan began to talk about archery, and then about sword fights. And then knife fights. Max shifted uncomfortably. Was this 'knife fighting' some sort of innuendo? Surely not... Although, Dylan did sort of seem to be that kind of boy-crazy gay. "Yeah, I'm okay at archery," Max replied. Another sentence, Max was on a roll. He ran a hand through his short brown hair nervously. He could feel his palms getting sweaty. Why?

Nodding, Max did see Dylan's point. A lot of these campers took everything seriously. Yeah, Max could understand taking capture the flag seriously, or some other offensive battle training, but wasn't the point of these sports to have fun? These guys were playing pretty aggressively. Seeing a sign hit Dylan, Max frowned. His green eyes then followed Dylan as he stood up and turned around. His jaw dropped slightly as Dylan began to speak. A mental note was made to not piss this guy off. He threw the poster and Max watched it hit the girl square in the head. As Dylan sat back down Max scooted a bit to give him some room. The guy had some serious sass raging, and Max did not want to get into that. Sure, the girl was extremely rude, but the retaliation was much scarier, with the addition of the pregnancy comment. "Well," Max breathed, forgetting to be shy for a moment. He almost said that was harsh, but he refrained. Keep this guy happy. "I'm not doing anything right now...you want me to teach?" he asked. A lot of words, he thought. Well, he already spoke this much, no turning back now. "You were pretty spot-on with that shot to the head," he added, quietly enough for Dylan to hear but not for the poor camper who was just sign-attacked. "I think you'll be pretty good."

Max's frown deepened as Dylan's eyes began to water. He wanted to tell him not to cry, to comfort him somehow, but he felt like he would come off as creepy. He had only just met the guy, after all. Max turned his head to look at the girls, and flicked them off along with a few choice words. They instantly became silent. Maybe all it took was a fierce expression. No, that couldn't be it, because Dylan seemed pretty scary to Max a couple minutes ago. Maybe it was the fact that Max has a bow and a bunch of arrows. That probably would be it. As the guys stop playing basketball, Max watches them pass, then turns his back to them. A semi-smile replacing his frown, Max stood up. "Come on," he said, offering his hand to help up Dylan. Max had had enough of the noise caused by the people behind them, and certainly enough of the basketball courts for one day. He clutched his bow tightly. "Let's go on over to the range, before it closes up for the day," he said, his shamrock eyes twinkling.

Max helped Dylan stand, and when he stood, Dylan remained holding Max's hand a while longer than normal. When he finally let go, Max bit his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling too much. Dylan cleaned his glasses, which Max observed he was doing often, and then looked down. Max suspected it wasn't just looking at shoes this time, because when Dylan looked back up he could determine a hint of pink on Dylan's cheeks. Okay, yeah, Max had to admit that was pretty adorable. Dylan's smile was also very cute. Max chuckled a little, on the inside. He turned and began to walk, beckoning for Dylan to follow. When the two boys were walking side by side, crossing a small stretch of grass from the sporting area to the cabins and eventually to the arena, Max glanced over at him. "So, uh..." he tried to think of something to break the strange silence between the two. "Whose your uh god parent?" He asked. Yeah, it wasn't a very interesting question, but around camp half blood, it was sort of the go-to ice breaker. Max stopped abruptly, putting out an arm across Dylan's chest to stop him from walking as well. A split second later, a couple satyrs ran recklessly across their path, who they would have collided with if they hadn't stopped.

Max could see Dylan's cheeks were still slightly rosey, and as cute as it was Dylan hoped that the pink tone would go away soon. One, because it would mean Dylan is growing more comfortable around Max, and two, because Max blushed whenever he saw Dylan blushing as well. Waiting until the satyrs passed, Max removed his hand from the boy's chest. "Sorry," he apologized quietly, biting his lip before continuing along, making sure Dylan was following. When the two were walking side by side again, Max responded, "Dionysus." His green eyes glanced at the Big House quickly before back in front of him. It was strange having a dad at the camp, but he tried to ignore it. After all, it's not like his dad even acknowledged his existence. He could probably have broken both of his legs and his dad wouldn't give a flying flidoodle. Max shrugged off his thoughts, coming back to reality. "Hey," he said to himself, not even noticing that they had arrived at their destination. "Well, do you have a bow? They have some in the weapons shed but they aren't very good," he informed Dylan, Irish accent much different than those typically heard around the camp. He gripped his bow in one hand and motioned with his unoccupied hand for Dylan to follow. Max jogged over to a small wooden shed at the side of the arena, and pulled open the doors. Rusty bolts creaked as he tugged it open with difficulty. Man, they really should replace this. Taking a step inside the dark room, Max instinctively went to the archery rack and found a couple bows. "Come pick what ye like," he called gently. "Granted, they aren't top notch, but they'll do you okay," he said.

Max smiled at him when he accepted the bow. He was sort of completely winging this, and had no earthly idea how he was going to teach Dylan. Usually archery was a talent, and even if you were talented, you weren't good until you practiced your ass off. Max himself was probably a little rusty. as they walked back out of the weapons shed, Max listened to his question. "Nah," he shook his head. "He doesn't really acknowledge any of us." He let out a breath. It was sad, but true. Even though his father was camp director, he never really spoke or paid a visit to his children. "It's fine, no big deal. I expect you're pretty mad that your dad doesn't talk to you, so I can relate. Anyway," Max continued, turning to the training dummies position yards away from them. "Let's get to work." He took Max's arm and positioned him in front of one, and then he walked over and stood in front of the other. "So, to be honest," the Irish boy spoke, "I don't really know how to teach, so just watch how I do it." Max shrugged, and smiled halfheartedly. He then stood sideways, and turned only his upper body parts. Keeping both eyes open as he should, he set an arrow, brought up his bow and pulled it back to his chin. His muscles rippled as he pulled back the taught string. Narrowing his eyes just slightly, he aimed. He made sure the arrow would now run by his arm, and then let go. The arrow flew, falling a bit before lodging itself in the shoulder, just under the collar and just above the pectoral. He was aiming for the heart, which was sort of embarrassing, but that was a reasonable shot anyway so he didn't leak his intentions.

Max chuckled a little, and shook his head. "No need for clapping," he laughed, walking up to the dummy. He gripped his arrow with one hand and the dummy's arrow-free shoulder with the other and yanked out the projectile. He replaced it in his quiver and walked back to Dylan. Seeing how bright and excited Dylan's face was, Max couldn't help but smile. He seemed so cute, so innocent for some reason. As if he had never given thought to fighting or why campers were trained to fight. As if he had never experienced or came close to death. But, that wasn't Max's business, and he could be assuming completely incorrectly. "Well let's get you fixed. Stand at like i had. Let's try bringing up the bow without an arrow for now," he instructed. As Dylan brought up the bow, Max nudged Dylan's foot back a bit for balance. He examined the boy's body stance. "Let me help you." Max moved to stand behind Dylan, and put his chest on the boy's back. It wasn't meant to be suggestive, and if it was then Max didn't even realize because he was focused on being a good teacher, honestly. He put hit arm around Dylan so that he held the boy's hand that was gripping the bow string. "You're going to need some muscle to pull it all the way back," Max said into his ear as his own arm pulled Dylan's back. "And then you need to keep this one steady," he said, indicating the arm holding the bow. "Make sure it's flat too or else the arrow or the string can run along it, and that would be messy. Max stepped back again to examine the boy's posture now that he was adjusted. "Much better," he nodded.