Hermes lounged on a branch of a tall tree on Aeaea Island, the home of Circe. He patiently waited to ambush Odysseus before he'd help him. In his hand was a herb he proudly named "Holy Moly," the greatest name he could think of and he will proudly show it off. His plan was to give it to Odysseus to protect him from Circe's magic, but it would be more entertaining to toy with him instead before he actually gave it.

"Boringgg..." he muttered, fiddling with the moly and yawning as he wondered whether Odysseus had gotten lost or taken a different path.

Just then, a twig snapped beneath him. His ears perked up, and he glanced down at the ground, a grin spreading across his face as he eagerly awaited Odysseus's appearance.