Shop Here! || John discovers the Camp Store

While on a run one fine morning at camp, Jonathan William Hermes, Jr ended up running almost head-first into someone. Johnny skidded to a stop in front of them, eagerly bouncing on his heels. “Oh! Oh! Hello! Hi! Hi! Hi! America ya! Hallo!” He chirped happily. “How's it going? What's the keys for? What's this building? Who are you? Why do you look so bored? Wanna play a game? Want me to run and grab something for you? Water? Something to snack on? I have seen plenty of things to eat around here. Apples. Strawberries. Chips. Cookies. Really, it wouldn't be a hassle! Just say the word, and it's done, done, done! Not ‘Dun dun dun’ as in the musical sting for dramatic effect. Just said ‘Done’ three times in a row. Different.”

The two began to talk, the son of Hermes quickly understanding— but then probably just as quickly forgetting— that this person was what's known as the quartermaster. Someone that takes care of the vehicles of camp, and, more importantly, the camp store. The building behind them.

Before he knew it, he had volunteered to run the store. Or at least run cash. The store was a fascinating little place; it had everything anyone could need, though it was mostly a junk food store, it seemed. He was told everything in here was free if you asked nicely. Otherwise, it was ‘One William Drachmae’, whatever that meant. But this was cool! This was neat.

…Hey, what was he supposed to exactly do here, again? Something about selling? Or stocking the shelves? Or both? Probably both.

The son of Hermes would be found running around the store at various points, hopping behind the counter with a little wave whenever someone entered.

“Hi! Welcome! This is the camp store! I didn't know we had one of these! It's nice, isn't it? I'm John. John Hermes. John Hermes, Jr. Hermes is actually my dad too— both of them, actually, technically. John Hermes, Sr. in addition to Hermes, the god. Take a look around! We've got plenty for sale! Freshly stocked! By me! John Hermes!” His eyes would also flick down to the tip jar once or twice, as if asking if they were interested in tipping.

"If you're looking for something specific, let me know! If I don't know where it is, I can at least look around here fast enough to where you probably won't have to move!"