Practice was one of the few things that put Oliver in a good mood now a days. It was relatively uncomplicated still. He was distracted wholeheartedly, exhausted by the end, and there was no one waiting for him to constantly muck up. He still enjoyed the games, but now he had to worry that they were going to run past curfew. It hadn't been an issue yet. Oliver still wasn't sure what he was going to do when it was.
He landed his broom and started to walk off the pitch. His entire body ached in a way that was completely pleasant. The remains of the burn hex were still covering his back, but most of it had started to fade by now. He was relieved by that. He and Angelina had made such a half-assed attempt at healing it, he had been concerned that it wouldn't go away or that it would scar. But everything was looking fine now.
He wiped an arm across his forehead and stopped, leaning against one of the pitch walls as he took a long drink of water.