Waving him off, Oliver rolled his blue eyes and scoffed. "Mate, I could stand twenty feet away from a stranger and the papers would all spin it somehow." They both knew this was the truth, especially so close to the final. Anything even remotely, vaguely related to Quidditch sold out near immediately.
Looking back to Marie, then Terence, he sighed. "Mate," Oliver always overused the word when really drunk and trying to convince someone an idea is a good one. "She needs a walk home. I'll be back in a bit." He needed to get out of here before the consequences of what he was about to do. It's just a romp. I need this.