Conan unzipped a bag from the tray of the Ute and fished around. Seemingly looking at something. Finding it, he produced a lawn dart. Turned to the information board, closed his eyes, and threw it. Narrowly missing his childhood friend. “Seems like a good a way as any to pick a path.” He said walking up to inspect where the dart had lodged in the wooden board. Tapping Eris on the shoulder. “Sorry, bud.” He held a peace sign to Zephyr when he was greeted.