As he drew nearer, Damascus could pick up the scent of salt water on the boy, which was his first concrete hint that he wasn't just some student. The more he observed him, the more tiny peculiarities stood out to him. Not so much the teeth quite yet, but his hair was dark enough that anything of color and substance was easily identified once the light hit it, otherwise it remained cloaked within the locks.
Damascus pretty much knew what he expected to discuss with this boy and that he knew it would be far from a normal conversation. But knowing and experiencing were two very entirely different things.
"Jesus?" He repeated, his brow inching upward though his lips turned down just a fraction. "One has to believe in Jesus in order to suggest you go find him." He exhaled. "Were you approached by the campus evangelist? I wouldn't listen to him, son. He's just trying to get a rise out of you."
Maybe he should contact Mel. Not that Mel would particularly enjoy being notified, but perhaps...oh, hell, what made him think the dryad would actually be helpful?