“Yep, pictures,” Alicia chuckled and pulled the blankets a bit further up Oliver’s chest and gently tapped his chest. “You really look adorable in Pride colours, you know? And that feather boa?” Her smile was just a bit too bright and too sweet, but it had been a fun night out back then, so who cared if the pictures in question also involved herself more or less dressed up like a French prostitute..? “When you go public as a drag queen, you really go all out, m’dear.”
Leaving Oliver to consider that one for a bit, she got up and went to the kitchen to get him some more toddy. His comment about Quidditch reached her as she was stepping out of his room, and though she knew he meant no harm by it, it still stung a little. Once out in the kitchen she took an extra minute to consider his words while she was pouring the brown, aromatic drink. Oliver was sick, so now wasn’t the time for her to get into the big argument about her career choice. Then again, the last time it had come up, she had gotten kissed in a way she couldn’t remember ever having been kissed before, and that brought a small smile to her lips before she went back to his room.
“If I played more Quidditch,” she started as she sat back down on the edge of his bed, “who would be here to take care of you today? Here, try it now. I think you’ll like it.” Carefully she held the cup out for him to take, hoping that he now had enough passage through his nose to be able to taste it.