Oliver heard the sound of another body entering the pool as he submerged in the middle of his lap, rising again to find a figure lounging along the surface in the slightly shallower water a few feet away. With how warm it was, he didn't really think he'd have the pool to himself for long, and he certainly didn't mind the company.
A few seconds of inspection told him that the sopping wet outline was Lennon, the cheekiest of the "youngins", and he couldn't help the grin that crossed his face. He didn't know what it was about pools that brought out his inner kid. It had taken almost an entire summer for his nieces to get a firm handle on the technique behind using your hands as a squirt gun. The rest of the summer had been spent terrorizing the remainder of the adults in the family with it whenever they were foolish enough to wander near one pool or the other. When he used it now, gathering water into his hands and projecting it in a high arc toward Lennon, he aimed square for the boy's exposed face. A little water never hurt anybody.