"It's a compliment," he assured. "He only gives nicknames to the finest folks," he assured, but then he was tugged along, and he couldn't help but chuckle, eyes darting to their joined hands as he could only imagine what the look on Ashley's face must look like.
Oliver sat down on the couch in the break room, comfortably crossing his legs over the ankle, arms over his chest as he leaned back. 'You lookin' to for a new job? George says you don't take any shite, so maybe I should hire a bodyguard." He made a face, jokingly suggesting contemplation. At her next question though, his face sobered a bit, and he shrugged.
"It's what it is. It's m'job." He shrugged again, not sure of what else to say. "If I dinna wanta be bothered, I dinna come to Diagon Alley."