Oliver spat out George's fingers and pulled away in disgust, swearing in Gaelic as he did. He wiped a hand across his mouth, mostly in jest, and gave George a gimlet eye before giving him a half-grin and a shrug.
"Aye, I suppose so then. She's a brat. Dinnae let the cute exterior fool ye. The posh wee accent and curls are a clever disguise. Tell Katie I owe her - no, I'll owl'er m'self." Oliver granned a handful of shortbread from the tray and leaned back on the couch, shoving two into his mouth. "And dinnae worry for yer sanity either. If she's stayin' wi' ye, I'm stayin' wi' ye. She'd run o'er ye in a day and a half. Her mam's spoilt her, but then, so'd my da when he was still wi'us." Oliver sighed and gave George a smile just to prove her didn't need another set of fingers in his mouth.
"And, I suppose tha' we'll be roommates in a way. Christ, if ye try anythin' - any sort of experiment or prank - in m'general direction, I'll pan yer face in. Ye ken tha' righ'?" Oliver laughed and popped another shortbread into his mouth.