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Trudging up to the meeting spot only to hear a camper's cutting tone, Conrad raised an eyebrow slightly. He pulled something thin and silver out of the pocket of his track pants. It seemed, to the casual onlooker, to be made out of a line of smooth interlocking parts and nothing else. His voice was calm and level as he confirmed the accurate hour. "Right on time actually."

Slung casually over the demigod's shoulder was an ash gray sling-bag containing provisions for the mission as well as medical supplies. His mind was more effective than any weapon he could wield, both metaphorically and literally hence he brought no sword nor bow for those would only slow him down. He did however, pack in a series of sharp, thin celestial bronze blades; they resembled knives but without the cumbersome handles. The possibilities were endless with a thin sharp object and psychic abilities most could only dream of.

Conrad dropped the silver object back and took a position similar to the girl's, but against a large rock instead. A section of his mind buzzed with anticipation, though his clear blue gaze gave nothing away. Another part considered the two campers once again. He had been notified of their names the day before. Fern Daniels and Scott Sumters. The latter he recognised from the Demeter cabin, though they had never talked, but the former he even more rarely encountered. Minor god or goddess, he mused.

Names were not enough, however. Conrad had to meet them in order to determine whether or not he'd be on a wild goose chase with two blockheads, or if could actually trust them, albeit marginally. There was always an extent as to how much trust he allocated to people and all but one or two were in the dangerously low levels. Trust, in his dictionary, was lucky to even exist. His definition was not based on feelings but rather how reliable someone was, decided mainly by their degree of competency, conscientiousness and detachment to emotions, among other things. A large percentage of society, Conrad had recognised, was susceptible to shallow, foolhardy, and ignorant thoughts and therefore, generally unreliable.

Scott had yet to arrive, but Fern he already had an impression on. No matter, Conrad dismissed any creeping doubts. He didn't have a choice either way. It was like the quest all over again. He would have to work with what he was given. They will have to do.