Flint had never trusted Draven. A lone player, who had made it this far into the game without suffering any major injuries? Flint thought that it was weird, but his teammates had told him that Draven was just lucky; although he wasn't a healer, he was lucky.
Draven was looking for a team to join, and since Soren left the team to follow Lucian, there was space for one more. Flint was skeptical about Draven; he had thought that Draven was too nice, too weak to survive on his own for too long, even if he had an ability that could let him see the future. No ability was perfect, and Draven's ability wasn't an exception. If the ability of players in the game was perfect, no one would be dead. No matter how much Flint thought of it, Draven's stories didn't make sense. He suspected that Draven was lying, but he couldn't figure out why.
Flint had let himself cast away his doubt about Draven when he noticed that Draven was starting to have an affection for Tara.
