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Oliver Bloody Wood (oliverwoodwould) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Oliver looked up at the sound of her voice and her padding feet, letting his eyes quickly take her in out of her chef's robes. "Adorable," he said, and meant it, since it was the first thought that went to his head on seeing her in her little dress. Simple, yes, but Melinda didn't need to wear anything fancy or low cut to catch his attention. She caught his attention with her words first, after all.

He settled on the couch with her next to him, a stray hand playing with her hair as she talked about him stealing her rooftop garden. Oliver let out a comically exaggerated sigh and shrugged, the affect pulling her closer to him. "I SUPPOSE I can deal with visits. But you're welcome to visit my flat anyway, even though I'm afraid yours is much nicer. I don't really go in much for decorating." Or furniture, he had to admit. He hadn't even a frame for his bed, it lay on the floor. A couch and a tea table were all he had apart from a telly that sat on wood blocks and that he powered through a series of machinations that were likely not legal. His sister rigged it up, clever girl that she was. She could teach Muggle Studies, that one.

"Maybe you just want me to visit you more? Anyway," he said, taking up one of her loose hands to play casually with her fingers. "Tell me your favorite childhood memory."