He was caught between giggling at her thrown spoon and frowning because he wasn't at all sure she was all right. He grabbed a washcloth, ran it under cold water, and pressed it to her face, dutifully ignoring the kicks to the shin. He bopped her (lovingly) on the head, but couldn't help laughing when she spun around like some housewife on display. Maybe that would be what she looked like in about five years. Although, it was Olive, so he highly doubted that. He stuck her tongue out at her very rudely.
"That HURT."
He frowned, rubbing his shin. That hurt. He took one of her olives as retribution and popped it into his mouth.
"The olives would not be the same without the sauce, Ollie."
He grinned. In fact, he couldn't stop grinning. It was good to see her. He hadn't since the last day of school last year. If they'd been alone, he probably would have picked her up and whirled her around just for the fun of it, but her father was in the next room, and again that would have not ended well. Instead he smirked softly.
"You've grown. You look more like a skinny weed than ever."
And by 'skinny weed' he of course meant 'pretty.'
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