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

“Well, this is my life,” Alice shrugged her shoulders, smiling a little as she looked about the boxes. She rubbed the back of her neck and nibbled idly on the inside of her lip as she looked around. It was highly upsetting, the idea that this was it. This was her tucked up in boxes. She dropped herself down on the bed hesitantly, tossing her eyes about the room as the boys began to move inside. It was her life. Except, it was slightly different now. Wrapped up in cardboard it might have been but she was somewhere else now. It was a new chapter, at least. At last.

“Perfect,” she smiled brightly. That was a better option. She couldn’t exactly put a sofa somewhere but if it was kept in miniature it would all fit nicely on one of the top shelves and whilst that wasn’t ideal it was better than getting rid of it which was the last thing she wanted to do. It was the first thing she’d bought after arriving in her flat in Britain. She’d bought a sofa and a pair of curtains and she was determined to keep them, even when and if she went back to France – which was more likely than not – she was going to put them somewhere nice where they could enjoyed and she could remember.

Ariel sloped off, taking up his stack while Alice bobbed up to look into hers. With her wand she brought down the box on top and opened it up, finding linens and bed clothes and towels. She grinned to herself and with a flick of her wand she lifted them all out, the doors to her closet flying open to envelope the materials. The towels set themselves down in their own little pile, the linen and the bedclothes doing the same. The box collapsed itself with a bright pop and then it was onto the second which contained, thankfully, some of her underwear so at least she beat the boys to that front.

“I’ve got books,” Ariel declared, opening his first box. He lifted down another. “More books,” he reported. Another two followed each full to bursting with, you guessed it: books. Thankfully, the fifth book provided him with two shrunken bookshelves, white, with glass doors on the frontage. He took them out, grateful that they were smaller, and he carried them into the bedroom. Ariel picked the wall opposite the bed and with his wand between his teeth he sent the dresser flying across to the other wall, placing it beside the window but, in doing so, caused Alice to shriek.

“Here?” he gruffed, provoking her out of her momentary fright. She nodded, smiling a little and he set the bookshelves down before enlarging them once more. “They’re nice,” he appraised, opening and closing one of the doors before calling in the boxes of books. “Okay, so… what do you want, colours?” He inquired. She nodded again and opened the top drawer of her dresser which with another flick of his wand he set to the colour of the bookshelves to match. Then, he focused on directing the books out of the boxes so they created a kaleidoscope of brightness across the shelves.

Within an hour or so, the room was cleared of boxes, any things that couldn’t be used being banished to the back of the wardrobe. Then, as Ari ducked out to make some late lunch for them, Alice set about fixing a vase of sunflowers by her bed. Her hair had fallen out of its pony tail, the band now around her wrist, and it was a curtain down her face, a few little locks reaching out to frame her chin. Once they were done she dropped herself back down on the bed and looked around. It looked more like her room. A little bit of her. All of her, nearly, taken out of boxes and placed around like a little museum. It was her home now.

Eric trotted in, bouncing up onto the bed and he licked at her hand enthusiastically. She tickled his neck and smiled, popping a kiss onto his head before watching him as he bounced off again, hurrying out of the door, his tail wagging, at Ari’s call of lunch for him. She nibbled on her lip again and looked around wonderingly. This was so unbelievably easy, she thought. It was too easy. She was sure that something would go wrong – if not now then at some point. She hoped desperately that it wouldn’t be the case but it shouldn’t have been as simple as Jemma had said.

“Al!” Ari called. “Ooooliver!”

Alice pushed herself up back onto her feet and wandered down the hall to the kitchen where she found Ari setting out two platters of hot, fresh pizzas that had just come out of the oven. With them came a bowl of spicy looking potato wedges and Alice found Eric nomming away on his food down by the fridge.

“I’m going out,” Ari declared, dropping the tea towel onto the table. “These are going to be hot. The last of the pepperoni went onto that one, Oll, so… bear in mind. This one is three cheese, Alice, so it’s not boring. Right, I’m going.”

With that said, a few moments passed and then the door slammed shut. Ariel was gone, leaving Alice and Ollie together in the kitchen, looking over the food that he’d made. The pizzas were homemade, Alice discovered upon further inspection. She decided that the dough must have come out of the freezer – there was no way Ariel had found the time to make them up from scratch. She reached for the slice, taking herself off a little bit and she put it onto one of the plates he’d set out, picking up a fork from the table also.

“I think this is well deserved,” she enthused brightly, cutting off the end of the pizza with her fork. She blew on it and then popped the piece into her mouth. She looked down at the pizza. It was good – too good. Ridiculously good. “Wow,” she murmured. She put down her fork briefly before picking up one of the potato wedges. They were as spicy as they looked but also fabulous. She smiled brightly and looked at Ollie.

“Can I convince you to watch a film with me?” She inquired. “I think after all that toiling, some relaxing time is on the cards.”

Ariel had probably caught on to Oliver's plan. Surely he had. Because Oliver felt like a bloody genius. He could keep his distance from the woman who had immediately turned him topsy. She wasn't the first to have done so, but he wasn't prepared for how easily she had worked her way in. Aside from keeping away, he could observe, and didn't feel bad for his leaving his shirt in his bedroom. Even better, carrying anything down the hall would be simpler for her, and he would take the brunt of it. Not better for him physically, but he hardly minded when it made it okay for Alice.

Because he was a stupid. Obviously.

He shook his head at himself as Alice and Ariel wandered down to her room, and determined to finish his stack as quickly as possible. It worked, he found, because he was done before Ariel came back to start cooking. Offering a sarcastic salute - for he was not interested in any more commentary from his friend - Oliver retreated to his room once more, taking the page from his pocket and pushing out the creases to go over that last paragraph again.

He jotted his pen over a few words, marking them out, before hunching over and continuing. Again, though, he was torn away by his flatmate. Well. One of them. Regardless, he pushed his chair back and made his way into the kitchen. As soon as he went to pick up a plate, Ariel announced his departure and drew a frown from Oliver when his back was to Alice. Brilliant. Helpful. "Fundamental, you are, Ari." He threw out, aware that Alice wouldn't have a clue what he was on about. His roommate on the other hand undoubtedly should have.

Taking up his own share of the lunch, Oliver turned his head to look at Alice as she spoke. "Yeah, he's a pretty wicked cook. I can't say the same of myself, but it clearly works out in the end."

Alice appeared to have excellent timing once more, as her request came while Oliver was heading towards the living area to see what was showing. In truth, he was fairly tired from the night before and all of his mental tug-of-war games that morning, but he supposed that eating and watching something wouldn't be too very trying on his not-as-frail-as-he-would-claim nerves.

"Yeah, we could do that," he agreed, sitting on the two-seated couch and tugging the low table over to set his drink and plate. Eric, who had luckily been trained early in many things, sat in his chair and avoided the food. Of all things, pizza was not one that Eric was entitled to. Apexes did not always do well with scraps, as could be said of many dogs his size, but especially not well with fatty substances. "You pick."

Never one to come to a conclusion about any trivial things (favorite colors, favorite movies, etc), Oliver could only hope she took the suggestion and ran with it. Hell, he would even watch some boring-as-all-get-out girly film if it meant he didn't have to be put on the spot and pick. It was her idea, so it would be up to Alice whether or not he enjoyed the movie. Setting his plate on his lap, Oliver took to his typical stance, one arm draped over the back of the chaise and the foot next to the arm of the couch propped on the low coffee table. His free hand picked up one of the slices of pizza on his plate and he took a bite before Alice could attempt to turn the tables on him.

Having cut herself another few pieces of pizza, Alice lifted them up onto the plate. She watched as Ollie retreated into the living room and, gathering a thought, she moved to the other slice, cutting off a few pieces of pepperoni that she balanced on the side of her plate, careful to not let it mix with her cheese slices. She then picked up the bowl of wedges and carried the things into the living room, setting the wedges down first before her plate, pausing to lift the extra slices of pepperoni pizza onto Ollie’s plate, smiling at him bashfully. She then hopped over and took a seat next to him, albeit leaving plenty of space between them. Friend space, which was about a cushion’s width although it was difficult to measure given the slightness of the sofa.

It was strange how immediately Alice felt at home. She lifted her legs up onto the couch and folded them underneath her body, grabbing the remote control off of the table. The TV came on, immediately throwing up tennis for them to watch and while Alice was tempted she was more interested in staying stationary for a while unless there was a need for toilet breaks. She flicked through the channels, finding the movie area quite quickly, and she settled on what was, essentially, a chick flick but she would argue that Pretty Woman is more than just a chick flick. She wasn’t sure what she’d argue it was outside of a chick flick but with a glance at Ollie she laughed a little before pressing the middle button, selecting it.

The opening credits began to roll and Alice bounced a little as she deposited the controls back down in favour of picking up her plate. She set that on her legs and eagerly began to pull at her pizza as the film started up. A lace of chees linked her lips to the pizza and she nibbled her way down the line before biting off of the end, tugging off more cheese in a rather unladylike fashion that strangely she managed to look okay – it was only pizza after all and she shouldn’t have been thinking about it quite like that because they were flatmates now and habits would come out, good and bad, but still. Alice put down her pizza once the dialogue started.

Alice rested her head in her hand and she watched happily for a good three quarters of an hour, occasionally nibbling on her pizza or on the wedges. However, eventually, nature made its call and she bobbed up, putting down her plate and hurrying out of the room, jumping over his legs before bouncing down the hallway, declaring after her that he should,

“Wait a minute! Gotta go to the loo!”

With that she disappeared but she was back soon enough and bobbed back over his legs before sitting down beside him. The space between them had shortened a little.

“Back,” she declared with a laugh.

But of course now she had the change of pace, boredom was beginning to leak through so she picked up her plate again, grateful for the warming charms that had been tossed lifted the food, and she began to nom once more on her pizza, bobbing her shoulder absently to the side against Ollie’s, her lips curling up around the pizza as he she looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Okay,” she murmured with a grin. “What is your favouritteeee…. Animal. Wait, possibly dog. Surely dog? Okay, if it is umm… what is your favourite time of year and why? Then you can ask.”

Oliver regretted his choice immediately, but only insomuch as he wasn't sure he wanted to sit through a film that held no draw for him. But he would endeavor as was expected and as he had said he would. So he settled in and lifted a slice to his lips, biting off the end and smiling around it as Alice went after her own with a bit more effort. Covering his amusement, Oliver made to take another bite before sinking further into the seat of the couch. He finished his lunch before her, and the threat of a 'food coma,' as he had taken to calling it, was very real after not too long. Indeed, he sat forward to set his plate down, and Oliver feigned ignorance as his hand brushed her back in between her shoulder blades, the action involuntary when he leaned towards the coffee table.

Collapsing into the back once more, he stretched his arm along the back again, his spare one bending at the elbow so he could rest it on the arm of the couch and prop his head up with his fist. By the time Alice decided to pop off, he could feel himself drifting off, only kept awake by the tapping of his fingers behind Alice's far shoulder. Her movement surprised him, rousing him properly and making him sit up straighter.

Passing his hand over his face, Oliver let out a yawn, but was more awake by the time Alice returned, sinking onto the seat next to him once more. Only moments later she spoke around taking bites, managing to keep ladylike as she did so. He was surprised, admittedly, when she spoke but didn't move to look at him. Taking it as invitation to ignore the rest of the film, Oliver shifted so his torso faced Alice, knee bending and pressing against her leg. Once his back was leaning against the arm of the couch, his focus was settled on Alice rather than the movie she had selected, and that seemed like a way more appealing option as far as he was concerned.

"Dogs, yeah," he agreed with a nod. "But I'm definitely partial to winter. I guess you just stay in or bundle up to go out, and I always find more inspiration that time of year. Maybe not the best reason, but there you go."

As Alice said he should, Oliver paused for a moment to consider what he wanted to ask the blonde seated next to him. Although many suggestions came to mind, he chose the most obvious one. "On the assumption that you've gathered my career choice as a writer, what've you gotten into?"

A little shot of pride went through Alice when Ollie confirmed that his favourite animals were dogs. Then again, it had been easily deducible really. Eric was a sweetheart, encamped in his own little chair. It was impossible not to develop a love for dogs just by looking at him. He was another reason why Alice found she was most earnestly glad to be living with Ollie and Ariel – because Eric ticked one of her bucket list goals: to own a dog. Okay, so, he wasn’t strictly hers but she was sure she’d do her fair share of walkies and she’d be glad to do it because she really doubted she could do much else – between them the boys looked as though they had it covered.

She felt her lips twitch a little as he expressed what his favourite season was. It was the elaboration which got her and she understood. Even from a purely creative point of view she felt she got it. Aside from the fact that everything and everyone seemed cuddlier and hot drinks could be more appreciated and somehow the four walls and roof of a home felt better and better the longer you spent out in the world… winter was gorgeous. But of course it harboured some less than savoury associations for her and whimsical it might have been whilst sat in summer, when December came she never quite felt comfortable. When Christmas Eve came upon her, she still felt terrified. Summer was light, by comparison. Summer was safe.

He chose an interesting question, she felt. It hadn’t really been touched upon at dinner – she supposed that Jemma half expected everyone to already know what Alice did because lord knew she’d been teased about it enough. They’d all done their own thing whereas Alice had been wholly uncreative as far as they had been concerned. They’d never really quite gotten it, though. She and her father had always kept those cards, that episode, the truth behind their meeting, close to their chest. She was sure that whilst Paul-Henri shared everything with Marie-Elise, that went unsaid – much to her frustration and, often, open irritation which had occasionally been vented to an oblivious Alice over the years. She hated the ‘old pals’ aspect to their relationship and the easy secrecy they kept. She preferred transparency. It made his political role all the more ironic considering.

“I’m an ambassador,” she explained after swallowing a wedge. “I save France from peril.” She smiled a little, shaking her head. That wasn’t it, really. “No, I am not even that. I am an assistant to the ambassador. He used to be my father but papa went home to Avignon and I thought maybe they’d promote me but alas, non. I do the work, I should really get the acknowledgement. Perhaps then I might have been able to hold onto my apartment.” She shook her head again, smiling ruefully. “He is a lazy …” she stifled herself, rolling her shoulders free of the need to swear. She took another bite of pizza instead.

“Okay, so. Let’s see,” she tapped her nails against the plate thoughtfully. She looked up, getting her idea but, as ever, easily got distracted on the way there. “Hold on, can I read something of yours, maybe? Like, not now but later maybe … like, a few weeks later if you like not tonight or tomorrow or anything.” She smiled sheepishly, feeling embarrassment lick at her cheeks and she laughed a little before sobering herself and asking her question:

“What’s the cheesiest song you have memorised?”

"Maybe when the âne retires you can take over and be rightfully accounted for."

Oliver stiffened visibly at her first question, both assuming it was her only one, and not quite wanting to answer. Her request wasn't one he never received, but it was definitely one he never said yes to. He was sorely tempted, though, because it was Alice. At the same time, he knew he couldn't say yes. Because it was Alice. No way could be stand watching her reactions or heading any negative comments from her. New 'friend' or not, Oliver didn't want any disapproval shining in her eyes. Not regarding him, at least. Alice was supposed to be bubbles and sugar, not ill-concealed disdain or distaste. Such expressions didn't belong in her eyes. Especially not when he causes them.

Oliver could hope for better, but strangers only made him wary. Especially this one who was somehow more important than the others in a matter of twelve hours. How incredibly broken that was.

"I don't.. That is, I never really let anyone see my work until it's published. I don't want opinions to alter it, I guess." His hand came up to rub at the back of his neck before dropping back to the arm of the couch. "By the time I manage to write anything new, you could be the Ambassador already and have bounced off to wherever it is those sorts of people go. Then you won't want to be bothered by the writing of an old flatmate."

It wasn't a lie, really, and it wasn't his trying to suggest she pop off somewhere else. Obviously, or he wouldn't have invited her to stay. But his writers block was so fortified that Oliver wasn't sure he would manage anything decent for years. The pages he had written during Alice's unpacking were already looking like rubbish as he considered them in his mind. No, the story couldn't grow into anything. He mentally threw the story away on the spot, turning instead to her second question and pretending like his soul didn't ache a little in response.

"Apparently I'm only going to give disappointing answers today," he muttered with chagrin. "I'm not big on music. I like the idea of the lyrics suiting situations and things like that, but I wouldn't want to spend the day with the radio blaring over my thoughts. I don't know... But yeah, I'm not sure I can answer that."

Her question had been far more creative than Oliver's first, so he tilted his head as he regarded her, toying with different options. He didn't want his question to be as fruitless as her last had, either, which made it harder.

"...What did David do to you?"

Realizing what he had asked, Oliver immediately went shutters up, straightening his spine and at least possessing the ability to look ashamed. "I mean. ... You don't have to answer that. I'll ask something else. Um, what about.... Maybe what your favorite place is out of everywhere?"

“What did he… whatever gave you … He didn’t…”

Alice spluttered uselessly, her lips bumbling together. She leaned over and set her plate down, exchanging it for her drink and she turned a little, resting her back against the arm of the sofa, bending her legs and placing her feet either side of Ollie’s knee. She tapped her nails against the side of the glass, clinking a nonsensical tune and she wondered whether, indeed, she would elect to answer his question. Yet, she always had been one for games. Part of the game was to answer.

She hadn’t expected Ollie to not be into music. Somehow she had pegged him for the type but there was the competitiveness there in her that suggested maybe he just hadn’t found the right kind of music to listen to yet. Alice by contrast adored music in any capacity she could get it. In the coming weeks, Ariel would walk past her door many times and look at it quizzically as a mixture of the saddest classical tunes to hard rap or metal or goodness knows what else would emanate and upon opening the door he’d find her bouncing her feet while she laid sprawled on her bed going over documents for work. It would prove to be a strange living situation, this.

But when he asked about David, she seized up like she had done at the party. Her shoulders briefly went up round her ears and her teeth went on edge. She shook herself, trying to get some sense into her. He’d asked. It was only polite to reply and she knew that Ollie wasn’t unobservant – he wouldn’t have made a career out of writing if he was. Crucially also, she hadn’t been subtle. Unfortunately for Jemma the animosity was still there on Alice’s part but at least David had the good grace to harbour some guilt now.

“We were together through school, um,” she brushed her hand over her dress clad leg, pushing off lint despite there being none there to be rid of. “From fourth year onwards because it was just good and easy and right. And I really, really liked him. When things got all crazy with Jem and Dan he was there because we were in the same boat essentially – we had to put up with all of their madness. They didn’t have time for us so we found time for each other and we just sort of fell into it, I suppose.”

She took a sip of her drink, picking a spot on the carpet to focus on. She took another few sips, her mind tracing her back to those nights, the happier ones, letting them bleed into the sadder ones and then the downright devastating ones.

“After we all got up, jumped ship and moved here things got a bit weird. He’d make these excuses – oh, Al, I can’t see you tonight I’ve got work. Which was fair enough at the beginning but when it was every night of the week it stopped being funny and Jemma made excuses for him and Dan was … well, he didn’t say anything and then when David and I did have some time together he didn’t want to be there. We’d sit like we are now on my sofa and I’d put something on and we’d talk over it like we are now but he stopped wanting to talk. I put on Love Story to test – he hates that film – and he sat and he watched it the whole way through and wouldn’t so much as mutter a word to me. Sharp difference from before. He’s tactile. I mean, you saw him with Henriette … he’s, he’s loving so it was … it was awful and, um…”

She ran her finger around the rim of the glass and lifted her gaze off of her spot on the carpet, giving a furtive glance in Ollie’s direction.

“I went to his work one day – it was impulsive but I got this nice gateau from the bakery near the Ministry just before it closed and I bought some CD for him and I got the lift all the way up to his floor and the doors opened and I wandered down to his office – left, a few paces down, right and then it opens out into this really bright and airy space. It’s lovely but he was … um. It wasn’t even though I caught him doing … uh, well… having…y’know…” she laughed awkwardly, reaching to tug absently on her ear lobe. “He was having dinner. Sounds completely innocent I guess but it was candles and there was this pink box on the table – wrapped in lovely ribbons and the food looked expensive and I mean… it’s not really anything, right, from the outset but he’d never done anything like that for me before and as if I didn’t even need clarification he, um, he sort of leaned over and … uh, kissed her. Henriette.”

“So,” she lifted her head, feeling oddly defiant. “I threw the gateau at his head and the box sort of exploded and it covered them both,” she snorted, remembering the looks on their faces. “I still have the CD and she and I developed this woefully false relationship. Turned out she didn’t even know I existed. Which was … pretty charming. My papa wanted to try and get him deported,” she shook her head. “Crazy man. But, um. Yes. So he broke my heart basically. I can kind of half laugh about it now but it still twinges a bit. I think that’s probably why I’m so rubbish at dating now.”

She finished off her lemonade, “and, also… like, I really, really don’t want to hate her, Henriette that is, but I can’t help it and you shouldn’t hate anyone really. I still sort of think that maybe that should be me he’s going to marry because I was there first. It’s so stupid but I sort of … I loved him first and it just got me to thinking … what’s so wrong about me that I wasn’t worth it… Oh, Merlin… I don’t know. It was so long ago now that I … I’m still upset, yes, and dinner parties like that don’t help. I still love him a bit. But I, um… I half wish that I could’ve had the opportunity to hurt him as much as he hurt me. So… that’s what he did. He fell in love with someone else and didn’t have the bravery to tell me. So, yeah. I’m … pretty much guaranteed not to have the same sort of happy ending Jem and Dan have… it kind of messed me up a bit. I don’t reckon I could trust anyone with, well, me like that again. It’s just… it’s rubbish. I’ve gotten over the fact that it happened I guess what really throws me off is that I still feel so rotten sometimes. I don’t know what I did.”

She looked at her glass and made to get up, popping her feet into the soft carpet.

“D’you want a refill?” She asked.

“Sure,” he returned blandly, watching her walk off. His eyes fell back to the television where the film continued on as if nothing had happened. Damn thing. Oliver nearly shut it off, but then decided that it was safer to get out his reply when the background noise was there to counter any awkward or angry silences that Alice would present him with.

“You’re not the one he cheated, you know.” Oliver pointed out finally, staring at the television even as he spoke. “Guys tend to cheat themselves out of something special when someone new comes along. Could be that they’re not truly that happy but he had to feign it at the party. Pretenses seem to be everything at those things.”

His fingers tugged on a stray thread on the couch for a moment before he managed to continue. The words came out hesitantly, as Oliver knew they could offend. But he was almost always more blunt that he should be, and had that awful habit of seeing every single side and feeling the need to point each out. “I think that a lot of times, people grow up and don’t know why certain things bother them suddenly. Don’t get why the person they wanted isn’t what they need now. You can’t tell me that every little thing about David is still appealing. Maybe if he hadn’t done anything, you would have been the one that left. I guess that would have felt a bit better, but if he is so mercurial I can’t see you having been happy.”

Reminding himself that he had only just met her, Oliver corrected himself. “Rather, I imagine you wouldn’t have been. I have no right to say.”

He kept quiet until she returned, pulling a knee onto the couch so he sat with his foot dangling and faced her properly. “I don’t think you did anything wrong, per se. I think David just forgot that he had a responsibility. That he looked too far and forgot what he had. So really, it comes down to his bad memory, not anything on your part.”

The last line was offered with a twinge of a smile, his eyes focused not on her eyes but on her hair where his fingers had slowly reached up to curl the blonde strands around themselves. When his words stopped, though, Oliver paused, closed himself off, and pulled away so he was no longer invading her personal space. He turned his head back to the film, then shifted so his entire body was confined to one cushion facing towards the television. He couldn’t even manage a glance at her as he added on:

“Would you rather talk about the other question instead? Or we can just watch this movie. I mean, if you want to finish it.”

Whatever she said would work out fine, he knew, because he could make excuses of crumpling up his pages and starting over or taking Eric out for a few minutes, or even popping over to the bar where he usually tried to work. He always failed, but perhaps that day would be his lucky one. Perhaps words would choose to appear. But his mind was particularly clouded now. Would he get any work done, really?

Oliver rather doubted it.

Glad to be of help, Alice took Ollie’s glass from him and navigated around the coffee table, taking herself off back into the kitchen. She put the glasses down on the side and reached for the fridge, opening up the top to take the lemonade bottle off of the door. Once the glasses were full, Alice replaced the lemonade back in the fridge and made her way back into the living room, listening intently to Ollie as he spoke.

“I feel pretty cheated,” she retorted with a smile, handing his glass to him. She sat down again, resting her head against the large cushion at the back of the sofa. She turned a little, twisting her eyes round to look at him, and she nodded thoughtfully, conceding, at least in her head, that there weren’t aspects of David she’d liked even when they were at a good point in their relationship. But then, he probably felt the same way about her.

“No, no,” she interjected gently, “I get what you mean. You’re right. I don’t think I would’ve been happy.” She twisted her legs up behind her and aimlessly flicked her eyes across to the television, no longer finding the appeal even though Julia Roberts looked enviably beautiful. She frowned a little as Ollie moved on and shook her head.

“I’m no one’s responsibility, Ollie,” she replied softly, her tone firm and quietly authoritative. She watched him curiously as he lifted his hand to her, as his fingers turned in her long, soft, Rapunzel strands of hair. Her lips twitched a little at the sides and she brought her shoulders up towards her ears briefly before releasing them, dropping them down leisurely when he retracted his hand away.

She found that she actually mourned the sensation, the feeling of connection between herself another person even if it was over something as trivial as her hair being touched. She brought the glass to her lips and she drank greedily the fizzy liquid, hoping to stifle the blush she could feel already warming at her cheeks.

“Oh, I’ve seen this a thousand times,” she assured him with a smile. She wasn’t sure she was kidding either when she gave a number. No, indeed, she probably had seen Pretty Woman a thousand times. It was a comfort film. It was an apt choice to begin living at Ollie and Ari’s with.

“My favourite place in the entire world…I think it would be home. In Avignon near the water. There’s this beautiful café there that I never used to be able to go to because they were in competition with my mother’s café but they do the most glorious blueberry and lavender ice cream. I used to run there on the way home from school and eat and then I walked the rest of the way and I’d be there on time. I love it there, right on the river. It’s so beautiful. What about you?”

"That's not what I meant," Oliver started quickly. "I just- I meant that both parties in a relationship have a responsibility to each other. They have a certain level of respect that they have to maintain by remembering that it is, to some extent, a requirement that each alerts the other to any changes."

Resting his head in his palm again, he looked at her with an almost pained expression. "If it was up to me, I'd make it a rule that if someone changed their mind, they would have to say something before picking someone else. It would save the world a lot of heartache, I think."

He was so distracted by a flash of memories that he failed to notice Alice's blush, only paying attention again once she answered his question. He nodded, thankful for the change of topic, and took a drink from the glass she had brought back to him. His favorite place? Oliver hadn't expected Alice to throw the question back at him, and he was without a proper answer. Inevitably, something had to be said so he didn't ruin the attempt at conversation, so Oliver pondered it briefly and gave the first answer he could settle on without qualifying it.

"Unfortunately," He started, drawing the word out as he expected her to judge his reply fairly harshly, "I used to have a place in mind.... but there is no way I will ever gain access to it. I guess I should have tried harder but too many things were working against me at the time and now there's no chance. It's very vague and unhelpful, but it's not something I talk about, really, so I don't know how to make myself explain."

Oliver leaned forward and set down his glass, elbows propping themselves on his knees so he could rest his chin on the fist his hands made. An unseeing gaze rested on Eric across the room, but Oliver knew it would take more than a game of questions to draw the truth from him. As interesting (or whatever) as Alice was, she had not earned that story, and wouldn't get it until she had done so. It was almost cruel, he knew, to deny her an answer when she had just shared everything about David. But Oliver had learned not to be so open with people - especially not shockingly attractive women like Alice. The idea of telling her and having anything thrown in his face made his blood run cold, so he knew he had to redirect her.

"Would you be up for doing something else? I don't know what, exactly, but there are shops nearby, and Eric would put up with being bothered by us for at least a little while. Or if you've got a better idea that works, too. I'm really not that good at sitting still this long unless I'm working," he added, not truly wanting her to think he was somehow afraid of her game. Though, in his chest he knew that was the real issue at hand.