He's made an improvised bow. A paperclip bent just so, a rubber band wound tight. He tweaked the tension a bit more, and gave the band a little test twang.
In his hand, his projectile. A literal nail.
"I bet you this'll draw blood."

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He's made an improvised bow. A paperclip bent just so, a rubber band wound tight. He tweaked the tension a bit more, and gave the band a little test twang.
In his hand, his projectile. A literal nail.
"I bet you this'll draw blood."
“Lame...”
“Though I’ve never used the ability before, I know how. I just want to see how it feels. It’s not as if I’m going to inflict some life threatening illness on you or something, so I don’t see what the big deal is. Just hold still.”
“Oh...Was it yours?”
He’s in his own world, singin’ Fergalicious to himself as he waits for the vending machine to spit out his hot coffee.
“Tragically, being a child of Apollo means I wake up at the fuzzy asscrack of dawn. Regretfully, I am not a morning person. Tread lightly, especially while I’m holding a cup of coffee.”
He's watching Ouran Host Club on his phone and trying to hide it from curious passersby.
"Perhaps it's time for me to take a job far, far away again..."