Just a Jog

Killian Barathor was one his daily run in the northern part of the forest. He enjoyed these runs he participated in the morning because it allowed himself to think. It also got his blood and lymphatic system pumping. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and white gym shorts with a pair of tennis shoes. The son of Nemesis had his iPhone 5c on airplane mood, hoping while he was listening to his music that the monsters wouldn't be drawn to him.

Where was it? Where was it? Where in Hades did it go?
Atty brushed his hands gently over the dirt where his cousin had buried the small cardboard box. He cursed under his breath softly, wiping his hands on his jeans as he stood up. He cringed, his nerves pulsing through his body rapidly and sending out another tick.
He turned on his heel to return to the camp before feeling a crunch under his shoe.
Nice going, Atty.
Picking his foot off of the twig he has used to mark his hiding place, he leaned over and dug up the small white box. He wiped his hands on his jeans before carefully opening it with shaky hands, pulling out a single white stick and the faded red lighter. Ecstatic, he accidentally dropped the lighter to tug his ear. Picking it up, he lit the end of the cigarette, taking a deep inhale of the smoke before blowing it out slowly from his mouth.

The Greek demigod was rounding the corner when he saw a guy smoking what looked like a cig. Killian slowed down and gave the dude a harmless look over. Taking the earbuds out of his ears, Killian greeted his fellow camper. "Oh, hai. Y'know smoking is bad for your lungs?" Yep, that's the perfect way to start a friendly conversation. "Sorry, that's none of my business."

Atty jumped when he saw someone pass the trees near him, the smoke he was breathing in coming out in a few violent coughs. He usually never smoked in front of others or told anyone he did, discarding of his clothes before someone could smell the nicotine on him. Smoking was his last resort for gaining control of his nerves and at least looking normal.
Even amongst the children of gods, Atty wasn't normal. He stuttered, failed at all means of self defense, couldn't even read Greek if he tried, had odd rituals for eating and waking up, and was constantly looking like a mad man with his physical ticks. Between his OCD and Tourette's, he as beginning to accept the fact that he would never be normal.
"I-It's okay a-a-and I know," Atty wanted to smack himself at his answer. If he knew, then why did he do it? He had to elaborate on at least that.
He added to his response, "B-But it hel-helps with calming down a-a-a-and other stu-u-uff. It's more of a-a habit now, though, I-I think."

Killian nodded his head slowly as the teenage boy explained why he smoked. He understood that being here and life in general can be very stressful and sometimes people need to relax. "You don't have to explain yourself to me." Killian smiled at the guy. "I'm Killian. Killian Barathor." He walked closer to him, having shallow breathing to avoid second hand smoking. He offered him a hand. "Son of Nemesis."

"A-Atlas Markha-ham, or just Atty," He said, shaking the other boy's hand and trying to avoid the frown as he stuttered his own name. "My dad's Epiphron, whoever that is."
He couldn't help but say it with some spite. He never met the man like most of the other campers running around camp. He tended to believe his father was a big part of many of his disorders since his OCD seemed to match up with his father's representation of carefulness. His cousin, Monty, made it seem like the blame was reasonable, poisoning the impressionable boy's head every time they discussed their god parents. Most of the time, though, he tried to keep the blame away from anyone which meant he would settle it on to his own shoulders.
He ran a hand over his hair, twitching his head to the side as he avoided to tug his ear. Every time he tried to suppress a tick another one seemed to take place. He used the movement of his head to blow the smoke away from Killian.
"Are yo-you... German?" Atty tip-toed around guessing where his accent was from. He was terrible at recognizing accents especially since his cousin had an accent that butchered so many of his words it made it hard to even know if he was speaking english half the time when he was upset.
As for Killian, there seemed to be something off with the flow of his words. It certainly had to be that he wasn't American.

"Oh...Epophron." Killian tried to think whether or not he read about him in any of the books in the library or just on his own. After about a couple of seconds of silence, the god came back to his remembrance. "He's the god of thoughtfulness, carefulness and...prudence?" He said more as a question than an answer. He hoped that he didn't just make a foul of himself. "Anyways it's nice to meet you, Atlas." Killian smiled, shifting his weight from foot to the other. He noticed that Atlas had a stuttering problem, but that didn't bother him any as long as he was able to put up with his overly positive attitude. "And I'm actually from Austria. What about you?"

His cheeks felt warm but he managed to keep his embarrassment under his skin which only came out as another tug of his ear.
"Yeah, my dad-dad's suppose to be one hell of son of a-" Atty stopped himself, remembering that profanity was never the best impression. "Uh, a-a-anywa-ays, U-Utah.Salt Lake City-ty, Utah."
He nodded to himself as if to make sure he was right. Most of the time where he was from seemed like he had escaped a prison instead of just a home.
"I found up I-I a, um, demigod when my-my friend took me to New-New York," Atty said, the repetition of words having him realize he was more nervous than physically impaired by his stutter. "Sh-I mean, stuff went down a-an-nd-nd you can gue-ess the rest-t."

Killian couldn't help, but to smirk. The smirks wasn't directed at Atlas' twitching or speech impediment, but at his attempt not to curse. He hoped the son of Epiphron knew this. "Sounds like a wonderful beginning." He stated in a joking manner, stuffing his hanging earbuds into his pant's pockets. "Salt Lake City? I've heard of that place before, but never been there." He laughed a bit.

Atlas dropped his gaze to his feet, sucking in too much smoke too fast and coughing.
"Trust me, you-you don't wanna go the-ere," Atty said, not putting much thought into the fact that the only reason he hated his hometown was because of his home. "Bad-Bad people, bad dr-dri-iving."
It was stuck in his subconscious that Atty was referring almost directly to his mother. Before her crash that left her in a state of vegetation- which mind you, Atty was sure was all an act and she was just waiting for the right moment- she was rather abusive to the boy. She wouldn't just hit Atlas but mentally attack him as well. Aside from his predisposition for his disorders, many school therapists and doctors were sure that the root of his anxiety was somehow attached to the woman. Now, living in Salt Lake City didn't do anything to stop the abuse because Atty never had any permanent marks and every time he tried to run away, he was brought right back home.
He shuddered at the memory before jerking his head to the side again, goosebumps rising over his skin under his sleeves. He blew out some of the smoke in his mouth to the side.

Killian decided not to open that can of worms and change the subject. "So, how long have you been here at camp?" He asked, swinging his arms some. Like every other demigod at camp, he had ADHD and couldn't stay still for too long. Killian started to pace a bit before stopping and bringing his attention back to Atlas, giving him another once over.

"'Bout six months," He estimated the amount of time quickly in his head. "You?"
Atlas took another deep inhale of smoke, the shakiness settling in his bouncing knee and the occassional twitching of his head to the side. He blew it out quickly and away from Killian, pressing the edge of it into the box to put it out. Usually he would have stuck it immediately into the second cigarette box he had dug under the dirt that was empty and filled with moist soil before returning the next day to discard it.
"Do yo-you usual-ally get up this earl-ly to run?" He asked, trying to keep himself from nearly cutting the other boy off before he could even begin to speak.
He felt his face grow warm again and he mumbled an apology.

Killian thought. "Uh, maybe a year or so." He answered. Had it been twelve months since him and his twin sister Killi? The son of Nemesis shrugged mentally and looked at the forest around them. "Yeah, I do. It helps clear the mind and such. You should try it sometime...perhaps with me? I-I mean like a bro thing. Cause bros are...y'know..." Way to go, Killian! Round of applause.

Atty was always stumbling on his own words so he easily ignored Killian's correction of what he was trying to tell him. He smiled softly, shrugging this time on purpose.
"Thanks for the-the off-ffer but I do-on't really run," Atty told him.
Even though Atty wasn't bad at running, he didn't enjoy it at all. He didn't enjoy the adrenaline rush. He was always high on adrenaline because of his anxiety and he took every chance at calm moments he had.

He nodded his head. "Well...maybe you would like to hang out sometime? Whenever you're free?" He asked, biting the corner of his lip. "I'm a really cool dude so we can do whatever you want." Killian smiled, running his fingers through his hair.

"Yeah," Atlas nodded, dropping his lighter into the hole he dug with his foot next to the sticks he had stick in the ground before to mark his hiding place. "I-I should go th-though. I have to chan-ange clothes, you know, bec-c-c-cause of-f-f the smoke sme-ell."

Killian smiled, nodding his head. "Gotcha. Well just let me know what you want to do. I better take a shower and suck, y'know." He chuckled some. "I'm gonna finish up this jog, see you later." He grinned widely beige going back on his way.