(ooc: We'll pretend Scotland won the World Cup against Germany, because they can't win it against a club.)
"I'll try," Oliver promised, shooting Percy a smile. "And if I do get gloomy just yell 'World Champion' at me and all will be well." Saying those two words out loud made Oliver shake his head again. He was pretty certain that he would feel the same way after actually winning either of those tournaments Percy had told him about. “We’ll have to find that book, though,” Oli said, almost in awe. “And you have to explain to me why you were going through books on Quidditch history. Does that mean I can talk you into playing now? Or did you just miss me so much?” He grinned and bumped his shoulder against Percy’s.
The smile on Percy’s face when he talked about his daughters told Oli everything he needed to know. “It’s nice though, eh? I mean knowing you were a good father to them. Although I don’t know why you’d be worried about being anything but a good dad.” There was a short pause. “You’ll have to introduce me to Molly, you know? I’d like to meet her.”
Despite his excitement for himself, after all Percy had told him about his childhood dream coming true, Oli was still aware of the reason he’d met up with Percy in the first place. He’d never been good at changing subjects in a particularly clever or subtle way, but Percy was most likely used to that by now. “So that toffee thing,” he began and immediately he wanted to kick himself because that was way obvious.