[center][h1][color=chocolate]Tobias Casper Grímsdóttir[/color][/h1][h3]
[color=slategray]Outside Cabin Nine[/color][/h3][/center]

He stared blankly at her, not openly showing how dumbfounded he was at that very moment. Here she was, fresh to camp, a bonafide demigod, and she didn't even know who Hermes was? [i]Huh.[/i] "[color=chocolate]Hermes. Messenger of the gods. Patron of thieves. Trickster. Kind of a prick. Guides people to the underworld. His children share his sticky hands and penchant for thievery.[/color]" He rolled off in a way that one would read the Sunday paper. Uninspired, flat; he'd seem bored and neutral if it weren't for the furrowed brow and tightly crossed arms.

"[color=chocolate]I'll help you though,[/color]" he added, softening his words slightly, his shoulders relaxing and sinking slightly. He looked from her down to the baggage and back to her, suddenly wondering how it is that she managed to get her bags this far. Maybe she didn't need help carrying things, but she didn't exactly look like most of the campers around them. She seemed softer. Weaker in a way. She hadn't been molded by years of being around other demigods which Tobias would've considered more of a blessing than a curse.

"[color=chocolate]Who's kid are you?[/color]" He asked, lowering his arms and dropping down for a moment to lift up one of her suitcases. He gripped the handle and held flung his arm over his shoulder letting the suitcase rest on his back. It'd be easier than trying to drag it along the ground. Though it was heavy. Exceedingly so. He showed up to Half-Blood with a half-empty dufflebag and the clothes on his back. He always had a spartan mindset about traveling. If you were to look around his cabin now, you'd doubt he could have ever been described as Spartan. "[color=chocolate]I'm gonna take a guess that you're one of the Demeter, Hectate or Iris kids. You're giving off the flowerchild vibe.[/color]"