Oliver was panting softly and he could feel blood trickle onto his shoulder as he sat up. Great, he'd have to see Madam Pomfrey about this, he could hardly do it himself properly. His jaw was throbbing now and he stared at Flint, eyes narrowed dangerously as if it was flint's fault they'd been dragged apart.
He only looked away loong enough to see who'd done it; a bulky looking but apparently rather drunk wizard not 3 steps away from them, who was now looking at them angrily.
Oliver heard Marcus laugh and couldn't help but smirk. When would they ever get to finish at least one of their fights? Probably when noone was there to stop them.