Who: Oliver and Erran Where: Erran's Room When: Late morning
Oliver wasn't really sure how he was feeling at the moment, so it was more than a little fitting that he was heading straight for the therapist's room. It had been a couple years since his last session with a professional, despite all of Rachel's subtle hints that maybe he should think about going again after Jason's death, but it wasn't the idea of talking to a professional that made him uncomfortable at that moment. The fact that said professional would be sharing a house with him did, though not enough to dissuade him. He had faith in Erran's abilities to separate his job from whatever else went on in the house, despite the fact that he didn't actually have to in this place if he didn't want to. The guy had proven enough with his dedication to Marco's recovery, and Oliver would give him all the credit he could.
The morning had been fairly decent, all things considered. Edwin had followed through with his promise for breakfast, despite the lateness of their movies the night before. Pancakes and cartoons had comprised most of his earlier hours, with a few stops to check on the network to see if anything horrible had happened overnight. He'd done his best not to linger on the strange sensation of having two ringless fingers on his left hand, and the distractions so far had done wonders until he'd actually explained to both Edwin and Marco what he'd done the night before. After that, the absence had been peripheral but constant, his thumb occasionally, absentmindedly hunting for that piece of metal to graze again for comfort and reassurance, instead locating calloused skin. He tried not to let the twinge of pain show every time it happened, but he wasn't certain how successful he was.
For the first time in a long while, Oliver hadn't even changed out of his pajamas or showered until it was nearly time to go meet Erran, and it felt a little good to slack off a bit for once. He'd brought two mugs of coffee, as promised, along with a few packets of sugar and creamer, balancing both as he walked toward Erran's room. He tried not to think about the fact that he was about to lay down a heap of problems on a guy who probably had enough of his own, considering their shared circumstances, or the fact that this was Erran Wolfe. Enough crap had gone down that the luster of having a celebrity he knew in the house had worn off a bit, but it was still pretty damn cool.
Settling both mug handled into one of his large hands, and tucking the baggie with the coffee fixings under his arm, he knocked lightly on Erran's door.