Kian didn't actually know he had places to be that morning. He had not gotten up at any sort of early hour, and therefore had not attended mandatory marching drills. He had been late to breakfast, and while he had known combat training was compulsory for all demigods, he had somehow missed the memo that he had to be on time for it, so he had taken his sweet time actually getting to that class. Instead, Kian had mulled over his breakfast, contemplating how to get word out to one of their staff to get him his shake, and also how to smuggle it into Camp Jupiter. Imagine, him, having to smuggle a healthy thing into Camp. It was bizarre and seemed so opposite and ridiculous. At least Chiron had been accommodating back in Camp Half-blood, or at least that was what Kian had believed.

So the son of Aphrodite had garnered the brunt of his Roman trainer's ire at the training session, but no Roman was going to get his day down. Kian was determined to be upbeat and positive, regardless of how hard some Roman demigod scowled at him, and so he ducked into the Mess Hall, sliding in before some other legionnaire - there really were more Romans at this Camp, weren't there? - and smiling at her with only some genuine apology before making his way towards his table. Not that it was his table, really; Camp Jupiter was so weird, grouping demigods by cohort instead of parentage? Kian didn't completely get it, so he had found his siblings and they being the self-appointed 'cool' kids, had commandeered a table of just children of Aphrodite in a corner of the Mess Hall, far enough away from anyone who might get ideas about starting a food war (looking at you, Hermes cabin) or just those kids who couldn't keep their mouths shut when eating (ahemAresahem).

As he sat on the bench and waited somewhat impatiently for the food to appear, he spotted one of his Roman sparring partners from that morning; she had been unusually kind and had gone somewhat easy on him, and he wanted to tell her he saw what she'd been doing. "Voulez vous coucher avec moi!" he yelled out in appreciation, grinning widely while giving her a thumbs up. Despite his heritage, Kian most unfortunately did not speak French very well, butchering the words with a horrible accent. Additionally, while he could understand French as though there was some automatic translator in his head, he did not always necessarily know what individual words meant when he was speaking the language, and considering he hardly bothered learning it, most of his vocabulary consisted of suggestive phrases and rude words.

WORDS: 461 | TAG: Aurora E. Adair