The swirling mass of the crowd looked not unlike a pitch during game play: if one could imagine it the little clusters of people easily filled the role of various positions. Most were chasers, including the group of girls cutting through the crowd to intercept their friend held captive by two men she clearly had no interest in. The seekers stood solitary on the hunt for someone to dance with or take home. Hell, there was even a Keeper standing at the bar jealously guarding the extra seat while looking around for a friend.
Everyone was having so much fun. The infectiously fun atmosphere couldn't be denied, and Oliver grinned before pulling a drink from the champagne bottle. Pink champagne. One of the girls clinging to the owner and eyeballing any available male in the booth had ordered a handful of bottles. It wasn't half bad, definitely something Romilda would enjoy... If she were here. He'd texted to let her know of his intentions to change venues, only to be meet with the message she was going to bed early and wouldn't be able to come over tonight but promised to do so later in the week. Well, so much for that.
Someone in the crowd called Oliver's name above the music and waved. If it weren't for his incredibly good hearing the voice would have been lost to the crowd. Probably a fan wanting a photo; it wasn't exactly a secret nearly all of Puddlemere's starting team were at this club. A light swept over the dancefloor and illuminated Genevieve's face.
"Gen!" Oliver laughed, waving back. He excused himself from the booth (no one really paid attention) and cut through the crowd with ease. "Hey! When did you get here?"