“Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.”

"I didn't- I mean," Oliver flummoxed, drowning in the mess he had created with his words. He knew they were friends; she didn't need to keep saying so. His arms fell away as he started backing up along the couch. "Sorry."

He felt almost like a child being scolded. Of course he was the stupid one. Because she was being serious and kind about it, he should have been fine with it and just nodded along. But there he was, swallowing hard in some sort of defeat he couldn't name. Deciding not to get that close to Alice anymore - not to touch her like that anymore - he blinked and just stared back with as much shock as she showed. But then the damn woman practically curled herself around him and Oliver's jaw clenched.

She kissed his head, and the moment she pulled back he turned his face towards the coffee table to keep from having to look at her. What the hell was this, anyway? What had he done to deserve this happening all over again? The only difference was that she didn't even give it a go before passing him over. Really. He didn't get it. For some inexplicable reason, the more he cared, the more likely he was to screw it over and ensure that whoever she was wouldn't feel the same.  

"Yes," he returned, trying to hide the newfound glumness within him. "Of course I'll go."

In an attempt to cover his change in mood, Oliver lifted his gaze to the television. "Do you want to watch anything? I don't know if you're too tired after four hours of Quidditch stats, but you can pick if you want."

And then, scooting away, Oliver ensured that no part of her - neither hair nor clothes; indeed, Nothing - was touching him. He would get past it. He would. Because it wasn't going to happen and that was just how things were. Leaning into the seat in a show of relaxing, he tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling, half hoping she would opt for bed so he could go off to his own and convince himself to start ignoring the bits of her that he lo- um. Liked. Ahem.

“You’re being so funny,” she accused lightly, tipping her head to the side. “Are you alright? Have you not had the best evening?”

You had to give her credit, somewhere along the line. This woman did sublimely in her exams, thank you very much. She argued with politicians and economists five days a week and, oftentimes, more often than that, sometimes the full seven, and usually came out on top with her own way, in the interest of her country. Yet, unlucky in love, she was so completely out of her depth when it came to taking a hint that it was no wonder she had suffered and continued to do so as she had. Academic sense she had in swathes. Common sense? Sorry but this woman is blonde, after all.

For all of the confusion Ollie had supplied her with, she’d managed to forget about the date and the anger had subsided, along with the tears and the need to shed them. She’d forgiven Louis for being terrible. She’d forgiven all of the others, too. She had her Friday friend now, at the very least. She supposed that perhaps rock climbing wasn’t his sport. Yet, at the same time, she was grateful that he wanted to indulge her. She was half tempted to get it over and done with so that she could see what he had in mind for the following week. She knew the benefits of a slow burn, though, and rising anticipation was always a winner.

When Ollie pulled away, Alice had enough awareness of the changing tone to register a little bit of rejection. Nevertheless she adopted a jovial mood, keeping it together, and hopped up from the sofa to inspect the movies the boys had amassed, peppered here and there with chick flicks she’d supplied. Plucking a random packet off of the shelf she leaned over and popped the disc into tray, setting the film up before straightening and moving back to the sofa.

She managed to take some sort of unconscious hint and though there wasn’t a lot of room she did keep to her side, curling her legs underneath herself and cuddling up to one of the big pillows that she had more or less taken for herself and was relinquished, too, without much of a fight from either of her roommates. The film played and silence elapsed for a long time between the two and it wasn’t until Alice managed to shake herself from what was rapidly beginning to be the descent into sleep that she spoke again, asserting that she needed to go to sleep before she dropped off in that uncomfortable position.

After washing up her cup and getting herself a glass of water, she kissed Eric on the head and smiled brightly at Ollie. As she passed him she reached to squeeze his shoulder, wishing him a good sleep before moving down the hall, back to her bedroom which she entered and shut the door with a soft click behind her. Then it was a case of divesting herself of her t-shirt and finding another pair of more comfortable knickers to wear. The t-shirt was plopped on the back of her chair, the other knickers in the hamper and once the new pair were donned she fell into the warm, sweet smelling covers and buried her head into the pillows, content to sleep forever.

Ariel returned more or less half an hour later, a soppy smile on his face that belied his usual stern character. He half fell into the apartment, tripping over the doorstep, and threw his keys onto the floor before shrugging himself out of his coat. That he left there too and managed to stumble to his feet, guiding himself into Ollie’s room where he found his best friend. In a show of drunken affection Ariel wound his arms around Ollie’s neck and planted a slippery kiss onto his cheek before declaring that he was going to bed, the comment ending with a hiccup cum burp.

With that, Ariel was gone too and for a long while the apartment was quiet. Ariel’s drunken snores were masked by a two-way silencing charm which kept his sound out of the apartment and the sound from it out of his room and only, really, the slight grumbles of Eric as he dreamt of chasing cats could be detected – that and the huffs and puffs of a frustrated writer who still couldn’t quite get the words right. All of those ministrations were disturbed, however, when a mortifying scream punctured the ebb and flow of sound, rendering it all to silence for a moment until the panicked gasps, half-sobs and unsteady breathing filled the room down the hall.

Alice shot up in bed, the light from the street lamp outside peeking in through her blinds, leaving the room in an orange, latticed glow. She drew the sheets up to her neck, more to protect herself than to preserve any false modesty, and she looked about, her eyes wild and her hair mussed. Her legs rose, bending towards her chest at the knees and she curled her arms around herself, shaking furiously as she tried to wash away the dream, to assure herself that she wasn’t there. That it was summer. It wasn’t winter. She was safe. She was in the flat. It wasn’t near any woods. She was in bed. It was only a dream. But it wasn’t, it was a nightmare.

Curling into herself, Alice laid back down, her fingertips digging into her upper arms. Her muscles rose to spasm awkwardly as adrenaline continued to course through her and she felt a cold sweat coming on, leaping through her like something horrendous. She could feel it all again, all of the pain, all of the suffering. Their laughter and her screams cut through her as though it wasn’t her but someone else. She could visualise it all with burning clarity and she could list, she was positive, every cut and scrape, every bruise. Her hand seized up, shaking as though threatening to dislodge itself from her wrist and she brought it to the juncture where her jaw met at her neck and she felt along there for the puckered, irritable skin that was kept so well hidden by glamour charms. To no avail, however, in keeping the raised skin from being felt. It was still there, no matter how glittering she could make her life. She still had the old one.

"God damn!" Oliver snapped, chucking his most recently smashed piece of paper across the room. Spinning back around in his chair, his elbows dropped to the desk, head falling into his palms. The words were gone. All of them. It was the first time in years that he wanted to just get smashed. And it was .... like three in the morning. Wonderful.

Of all the nights his writing had to just not work. What he wanted was to just delve into some world he created and pretend he hadn't done anything so blatantly stupid. Come next Friday, she was bound to remember the mistakes he had made - bound to be cautious or even go so far as to question him about them. And what could he say, really, besides 'Oh, well see, I actually might be serious about you looking too far for guys because, you know, I'm just right here and all.' ? No. That would blow up in his face worse than just saying what came to mind. Never again.

Oliver couldn't remember the last time he had gotten so worked up. Damn her and her stupid changing in the living room and her laying on him like it meant nothing - which, apparently, was the case - and everything else. And damn Ariel for making him do it. He half wished he hadn't agreed, just so he could avoid the pair of them each Friday and make a point. The idea of going to the boat right then was so great that he nearly did. But exhaustion meant that he couldn't manage it. He came to the conclusion that, were he still that frustrated and wound up come morning, he would just apparate straight from his room to the boat and take some time. That way he wouldn't offend her (or whatever he had done) again. Not any time soon, anyway.

Giving up, he shoved back from the desk and moved into the bathroom. Teeth brush and essentially set, Oliver was pulling his shirt over his head when a scream pierced his ears. His entire body jolted and tensed, shirt falling to the floor in sheer panic. Alice.

How the hell had someone gotten in without him noticing? Sure, Ariel came back, but what were the odds of someone else popping in just to terrorize his roommate? And what a night to do so. Ariel's door was closed, but he assumed that the man was still inside. Oliver burst into Alice's room, eyes scanning the room quickly but failing to find anything except a frightened blonde.

"Alice?" He asked, feeling oddly like he had a few hours ago when he'd first come to check on her. This time he just couldn't figure out what was going on. It looked like she was shaking, though, so he edged towards her slowly. "Allie, what happened?"

Sitting on the edge of her bed, he reached out and pulled the blankets closer around her. Forehead creasing in worry, Oliver set his hand over the blankets where they covered her calf. "Whatever happened, I'll take care of it, okay? Just tell me what's wrong."

When the door opened, Alice’s eyes flicked towards it and felt a surge of relief flood through her, dulling the utter terror that had taken hold of her somewhat. She couldn’t free her body of the tremors, though. Impossibly she still shook and she gave a yelp, curling into herself further when he set his hand down on her. Even through the covers she felt exposed and vulnerable, as though maybe she was wrong about him, that maybe in a moment he’d turn on her and deal her enough damage to bring the fate of her person in her dream to a bloody reality. She closed her eyes, winding them shut desperately, hoping that he’d go away, but instead she found herself hemmed in on both sides, the images she’d pulled herself away from fizzing across her eyelids.

Alice sat up, unfurling herself. She pried her eyes back open and brought her knees up to her chest, winding her arms around them as she inched away from her flatmate to the cool covers across the other side of the bed. Her tears continued to course wildly across her cheeks, boring down her neck and across her breasts, chilled against the scalding skin that was shining with sweat. She blinked desperately, trying to focus her vision on him, to ground herself in him, to use his presence as her anchor, as her safety blanket, as her reminder that she wasn’t there. She was in her bedroom, she was safe. She was with him. It was alright.

Nudging forward, a sob wracked Alice’s frame as she brought herself closer to him. She reached out, her quivering hand falling to his shoulder and she retracted it back immediately, the heat of his body supposedly at a normal temperature scalding her skin. She gasped, her eyes flicking to his and she looked at him pitifully before falling into him, unable to keep from giving into the instability of her frame. She reached up, caring not for what happened to the sheet, and took hold of him, clinging on as though she might be blown away by a stray breeze or if she’d let go she’d be swallowed up and drowned. She pressed her face into his chest and shuddered against him.

“Bad dream,” she sniffled. Terrible dream. “Stay with me,” she begged. “Please.”

It was an unreasonable request, given her earlier protestations that being as they were friends, essentially nothing could happen. Though those hadn’t been her words, it had been the case and the way they had been taken and what she was asking for was an intimacy she didn’t know if she would have extended to Ariel. She hadn’t had a nightmare before, not while living with them at least. There had always been someone there. While alone she didn’t know how she dealt with it. The answer usually comprised of turning up on the doorstep of Jemma and Dan’s and the weary man who would often be the one to answer the door would drag her inside, fill her with hot milk and a dreamless sleep potion and put her to bed, electing himself to take the sofa for the remainder of the night.

Alice clung onto Ollie, for dear life or for what she didn’t know. She couldn’t bear to let go, to close her eyes again. She was petrified of falling back in it again. She was petrified of feeling so helpless, as helpless as she did in dreaming as she did in the wakeful world. She clung to him, tearful and desperate not to be alone.

Oliver was so confused. She just inexplicably went back and forth on him, and all too suddenly he found himself wishing Ariel had gotten to her first. She probably would have requested the same thing of the other man, so he felt no pride or warmth from her request. Why was it that this entire night had him dumped on his head? Oliver was just exhausted, confused about their conversation earlier, and incredibly lost as to what was going on. Chiding himself for allowing his mind to jump, he looked at Alice again, doing his best to focus. She was backing away one minute, and the next she'd practically fallen in his lap, and Oliver couldn't find a single decent reaction. And why the hell was she once again barely dressed?

Realizing what an ass he was being for just sitting there, though, Oliver let his chin rest atop her head, arms finally wrapping around her. It felt depressingly similar to their situation earlier, except this time he was even more worried that she might fall to pieces in front of him. As he started worrying after whether or not she would consider his hold on her respectful, Oliver decided to change tactics. He pulled back, brushing Alice's arms before taking up her own hands in his.

"I won't go anywhere. Promise. Just take some deep breaths and try to relax, okay? If you want to talk about it, you can. Otherwise you should try and get some rest. C'mon," he gestured to the sheets, lifting them with one hand. If she wanted him to stay, he would, but he was going to be careful about it. So Oliver rotated enough that he could spread himself out on top of the covers, his thumb still passing over the back of her hand over and over. "I know it's just me, Alice, but you can trust me. I'll take care of you."

The profuse and seemingly uninhibited shaking of the blonde woman was accompanied by fierce sobs that stumbled past her lips in awkward successive beats. With every lurch of her chest her fingers flexed tighter, her nails digging into Ollie’s shoulders a little. She tried to disentangle herself, something within her recognising that it was not appropriate behaviour to pursue, but she couldn’t bear to let go, to be cast adrift, as it were, back to bed and back to her nightmares.

The evening had cycled round once more and again she was in his arms but this time it was pure, utterly unabashed terror in sharp comparison to the frustration and rejection induced tears from earlier on. The incessant, unrelenting moisture that spilled from her eyes could not properly articulate at true reflection of what she felt. The sobs ebbed away eventually as she sank against the warmth of the bed, spent but still hanging onto Ollie as though he was the only anchor left in the world.

She felt the bed sag as she focused on her breathing, squeezing her eyes shut while she tried to quieten her erratic heart. The feeling of him beside her was this warm reassurance she couldn’t really vocalise and capture articulately. She felt safe, though. Exhaustion began to take over but she persisted in trying to keep awake, unwilling to dip back into her dreams. She moved closer, sliding against him even with the covers between them. She found his hand with hers and laced their fingers together, holding onto him both for her own sake and to keep him there, to make him stay.

“Please don’t go,” she mumbled into his arm as she curled her head against it. “I’m sorry.” She managed, quirking her eyes open. “I disturbed your evening. I didn’t mean to,” she exhaled shakily and shrunk closer to him, reaching out with a blanket clad leg to weave it between his. “It’s just this… this recurring dream and I…can’t deal with it. I haven’t,” she frowned a little, trying to steady her words. “Had it,” she continued, “since I’ve been here I just… I’m sorry.” She wriggled closer, offering up some of the sheets and continued to cling to him. “Just … for tonight don’t go, please.”

---

Without you really noticing, bad habits can begin. In our blonde heroine, a most terrible habit had sprung up in direct consequence of her sudden fear of sleep. The bad dream had seen her, that night, disappear into a fitful slumber before resuming a version of peace while surround by her flatmate’s warm, his smell and the simple reassurance of his presence. She’d woken with him still there just about, unable to get out from her grip which was still intense and feverish all those hours later. She was rested, though - better rested than she’d been in a long time.

The following night, no sleep appeared to be in sight. She’d pulled her mattress cover off with all of her roving around and her legs had gotten caught in the covers, all serving to make her even more uncomfortable and miserable than she already was. She decided in the early hours to wait and go on without sleep, that upon the sun rising she’d get up and have a cup of coffee and start her day. When she heard a little bit of movement down the hall in the bathroom, however, Alice took her chance.

Upon opening her door she found Ollie’s further on down the hall was open, light spilling out into the corridor. The bathroom door, too, had light splaying out under it which convinced her she had been right and so, tugging her t-shirt over her head, she hurried out of her room, clicked her door to its close and darted lithely along the corridor before ducking into his room. Eric had lifted his head from his paws, confusion written over his canine face and Alice leaned down to pat him on the head before hurrying over to Ollie’s bed upon hearing the light click off in the bathroom.

Pulling back the covers, the girl hopped onto the bed, bouncing a little as the mattress reacted to her and she burrowed down under the sheets, cuddling herself under the thick duvet, all of which was beating out Ollie’s smell around her. Wiggling her head into the softness of the pillows, her hair splaying out across them and around her shoulders, she let her eyes fall closed and found her comfort despite the bright yellow light bearing down on her. She passed into dozing and only relaxed completely when that light switched off and the mattress dipped to take Ollie on it, also.

Thereafter, Eric got rather used to the sight of the blonde popping in and catching her forty winks there rather than in her own room. The dog began to wonder why either bothered with the pretence of going to their own rooms. Nevertheless, Alice still waited until Ollie was out to clean his teeth before sneaking in. Between this, a mass of paperwork spread across the coffee table on Tuesday night which detailed a new trade agreement to do with cauldrons, several hundred sheets of typewriter paper being tossed around and a new bag of kibble purchased on Thursday, Friday came.

As always, everyone tended to come home early. Ariel wasn’t going out this week, preferring to stay at home and make his way through a new television program. Alice walked in a bit later than she was used to, a miniature crisis having erupted in the Wizengamot which ended up with one of the French delegates getting punched in the nose. It had been an interesting day to say the least and she was thankful for when the week was shut out resolutely. Ariel called out his ‘hello’ from the sofa, chuckling a little when he heard the slam of Alice’s bag being banished into the hall cupboard along with her shoes. As she entered the living room, in the midst of unbuttoning her blazer, the werewolf sat up.

“Had a good day, twinkle?” He taunted, bringing up his tea from the coffee table.

“It was bloody ridiculous,” Alice huffed, tearing the blazer off of her arms. “Who punches a politician?”

“Well,” Ariel sat back against the cushions, throwing his feet up onto the table. “I would say most people in this country want to.”

Alice rolled her eyes, dumping her blazer into the washing basket and she set about wriggling out of the rest of her clothes, in the midst of doing so popping her head around Ollie’s door to say hello before turning back to her room to divest herself of her work clothes. Like the bag she banished them forever (or, at least until Monday) into her washing basket in there. She then found out her climbing gear which consisted of some leggings and shorts on top and a strappy pink top to go with it. When she emerged, tying up her hair with a band, Ariel raised his eyebrows.

“Please tell me this bloke isn’t into parkour.” He complained.

Alice stared before gradually coming to the conclusion of: “I don’t think he is.”

Ariel wasn’t going to let it go when he discovered it was Ollie and Alice going out that evening. A hard look from the pair silenced him and he threw up his hands, asserting that he wasn’t going to say anything. He wished them a good time, at least, and, for once, knew he didn’t have to stay up to wait for Alice. That half left a hole in Ariel’s evening but he was, strangely enough, glad to go to bed when he did. Still his mind whirled though, trying to come a conclusion as to what changed, deciding to grill his friend the next morning to figure out what he’d missed since the previous week.

Alice was the one doing the apparating, taking them to a spot just behind the hangar where the indoor climbing wall was. She and Ollie walked companionably to the front doors and entered, the sound of activity hitting them immediately. Alice talked animatedly with the woman on the desk, handing over her Gringott’s vault card which in the eyes of Muggles looked like a normal debit card and once they had their gear they moved inside to one of the free patches of wall to set up.

“Looking forward to it?” Alice asked as her attendant strapped her into the harnesses and ropes. She smiled at the man, thanking him softly as she rubbed some chalk into her palms. “Just relax and sort of go with it, I guess. I think that’s the best advice I can offer.”

So with that, once they were harnessed in there was nothing to do but start climbing. Alice reached up to get herself a hand hold. Then, lifting her leg up she pushed herself up onto the wall, relinquishing one hand to raise it up in order to maintain some balance, and thus began to make her way up the wall.

“Okay,” Alice began after a while. “20 questions, then.” She turned her head, resting a while, calling down for her attendant to keep her steady, and she stood on the wall, looking at her date. “You can start.”

The first night, he hadn't been sure, really, what to do with himself. Coming out of the bathroom to find someone that was definitely not Eric tucked under his covers was strange, but it didn't take more than just the one guess to figure out why she was there. Still vaguely amazed that she had neither told Ariel - that he knew of - nor chosen to go to him instead, Oliver had taken to his desk for a few minutes, trying to decide if he would go out to the couch or not. It made no sense for her to come to his room unless she felt that she needed a different set of walls. Or, you know, unless she thought she needed him. Now, that thought was definitely interesting. Turning in his chair, Oliver watched her for a few moments, choosing to believe the latter. After all, wouldn't she have asked him to trade or sleep elsewhere if she didn't want him there?

Deciding to just go with it, he let out a wary sigh and got up, pushing in his chair before sinking onto the blankets and hitting the light. She woke before him, opposite to the last night, and Oliver found a drink in his hand not moments after he sat up. He blinked at her, the whole image of it all stinging just a bit, but thanked her quietly before escaping to the bathroom.

The second morning would have gone the same way were it not for his fear of that very thing happening again. As if his body knew it would ache upon being handed any version of a Sunday breakfast or drink, it kept waking him up every few hours. Even with his obvious nervousness around her, Oliver found himself curling his arm across her middle even though she was settled under the covers and he wasn't. Blaming it all on the cold, he finally realized that turning over would ensure that he didn't pull her to him once more. When he woke, though, he couldn't quite bring himself to just up and leave after she had gone so far as to return the day before. But he wasn't confident in his ability to make himself collect any coffee or tea or fruit or even toast and then return. So he reached over to the side table and picked up his book to sit and wait for her to wake.

The week was a lot of the same, except her work days meant that she was moving around the room when he woke up. The first time he pretended not to be awake, but one particularly cold morning he slipped under the covers and rolled into the spot she'd vacated, soaking up the warmth she had left. He'd mumbled a quiet 'have a good day' but didn't check to see if she had heard him, slipping back into the sleep he hadn't found easily the night before. So by the time Friday rolled around, his sleep schedule was a bit strange, but he had somehow grown used to Alice being there.

Although he didn't catch Ariel's question, the lingering sense of unease was the in room when Oliver wandered in, already expecting snark but massively pleased when it wasn't handed to him. Even though the journey there was quick and they were generally in comfortable silence, the pair of them, it wasn't until Alice tried to prep him that Oliver really shook off his awkwardness. "Now, who told you I hadn't done this before? I've got it."

A lie. But that was okay, because he could figure it out. It was just climbing up some handles, and there was no way he couldn't do that. No, he wasn't overly fond of heights, but it was inside and with a harness and rope and spotter. So he would be fine, and the whole ordeal would be over soon enough. Then they would be back home and... well, he'd have to decide if he would bring up the change in her living arrangements. Did Ariel even know? Oliver imagined that the man would have noticed, but nothing had been said to him specifically. After he had gotten a good ways up, Alice spoke and paused on the wall. He glanced down at the mat before giving a chuckle and stopping as well.

After some consideration, Oliver nodded slowly, choosing a fairly safe question that he hoped would allow the easy nature of their outing thus far to continue. "You could have asked to do anything. Why rock climbing?" No, it wasn't particularly interesting and wouldn't give him too very much insight into who she was or her past or anything at all like that. But it was simple enough that he could pass the questioning to Alice without fearing any sort of retaliation, even in question form.

It was strange, really, for the little French witch to be as content as she was suspended in mid-air. She supposed it was some sort of substitute for the fact that she didn’t make a habit of flying. That and she was quite sure rock climbing required a little bit more skill given the ropes didn’t do all the work, you had to be able to pull yourself along and up a wall. She’d started doing it not long after she’d graduated from Beauxbatons. Problematically, David had never really been interested in joining her. She supposed that’s when the problems started.

She wasn’t going to ruin the evening thinking about David, however, and Alice washed any thoughts of him from her mind as she fixed on Ollie, reaffirming the position of her feet as she idly bobbed from side to side. She smiled at him, her lips spreading wide across her face and she looked about herself, wondering if she could find an answer somewhere on the wall. Other people were climbing here and there and someone down below was ferrying cups of coffee and biscuits to those waiting for their loved ones and the poor individuals that had to stand holding the ropes.

“I suppose I wanted someone to share it with,” she came to a gradual conclusion. “I come here more or less every week and it’s just nice to get away and think about something else or nothing at all. Kind of like you and your boat in some ways. Plus,” she thought after a moment’s lull. “I know you. We don’t have to sit in some stuff restaurant staring at our food for half of the time because we can talk, right, so why not do something a bit more fun?”

Alice sat back, resting against the tension in the harness, using her foot now to tip her to and fro.

“I’m really glad you still wanted to come,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind or something.”

Because whether she liked it or not, the week had been strange. It wasn’t something she really knew how to address either introspectively or to Ollie in conversation. How did you explain to someone who you weren’t romantically involved with that you actually really needed to share a bed with them to sleep? How could you even possibly, conceivably list the reasons why that was a necessity. It wasn’t explainable because it wasn’t conventional. She certainly would not have climbed into Ariel’s bed – not least because she was terrified he’d kick her out again. No, it was Ollie she turned to. Ollie she wanted to be with. Yet, she couldn’t really give a decent reason as to why.

“Okay,” Alice hummed, coming out of her thoughts. “This is such a stupid game. Hard,” she clarified. “A hard game. Umm. Okay. Got it. Right, if you could visit one place… like, only one – nowhere else – and you have to spend a significant amount of time there… where would it be?”

Did Alice realize she was basically describing a date as she answered his question? He had to keep himself from coughing in surprise, instead nodding along and glancing back at the mat and attendants again. The two down there were talking, so at least they weren't annoyed that he and Alice were lingering. Her comment surprised him to some extent, as Oliver wasn't entirely aware that he had given any sign as to whether or not he wanted to get out of going. He had been looking forward to it, to some extent, if only because it was time away from Ariel's curious gaze. But, you know, spending time with Alice was kind of okay, too, even if it did cause a bit of an ache at the same time.

"I promised, Alice," Oliver pointed out, forehead creasing in a show of slight confusion. "Just like you did. I wasn't going to just not go after I'd said I would."

Her question struck him as odd, if only because he assumed that she already knew the answer would be staying on his boat. But now that he had the question presented to him, Oliver took a second to reconsider. "Um, Cheroy, I guess," he said finally, dropping the word without thinking about the fact that she might actually know the place herself. "Usually I'd complain about it and all, but it's just because Mum's side of the family is huge. A bit intimidating, really. Family, though, can be nice sometimes. Only real problem is that they're far away. We, um. We used to be closer, but it's been a while."

Clearing his throat, Oliver turned his head to look back at the rock wall, reaching up to the next handle in an attempt to move and pull some of her attention away from him. But he only made it the one step up before realizing that he was meant to send her a question in return. Although he knew the answer would either be 'yes,' and comfort him or 'no,' and worry him, Oliver settled on one easily. It wouldn't necessarily tell him anything about her outside of how she was doing, but that seemed like a logical thing to want to know about his... friend.

"So," he began, glancing down at her, "have the nightmares stopped?"

“Oh, I know,” Alice replied airily, adjusting her grip on the orange handhold she’d found. “I still felt a bit nervous, though. Just in case you did want to cancel. It would not have mattered but I still … I wanted you to go.” Alice smiled. “And you have. So it does not matter.”

The blonde woman sat back a little in her harness and took a moment to readjust her hair, preventing it from falling out of the band she’d set it up in. She looked at Ollie wonderingly, a little bit of shyness overcoming her formerly easy confidence. She felt a sudden heat rush into her cheeks and she turned her head away, glancing down at the attendants below in a show of nonchalance. Had the nightmares abated? She didn’t really know. She hadn’t slept on her own since that first one so even if she had stood to have one, knowing he was there abated them. She took a hesitant breath and finally reached for a nod of her head. Yes, they’d stopped.

Eager to not linger on that subject, however, Alice bounced herself idly and tried to place his home in her head. It was outside Paris, she knew. She was sure that at one point or another, she and her father had gone through it. Certainly they had done when she had been smallest, when she had first gone south to Avignon with Paul-Henri. She had never enjoyed being landlocked, always preferring being near a river or by the sea. It was partly the reason why she suffered through work in London. At least she could rest easy knowing the water was near and it was also why she loathed to linger in Paris longer than she had to. While the water went through the middle it would never be enough for her.

“Do you have lots of siblings then?” She asked interestedly. “And cousins?” She added as an afterthought, assuming it was to cousins that he’d been referring. “You don’t seem to speak about them much.”