You stagger up to the door of the house, the porch light immediately flashing on and blinding you momentarily. Jeez, shit's bright. You think, wincing as you glance at the door that immediately flies open, nearly off the damn hinges even. "Where've you been!? I've been— blood. Is that blood? Are you hurt!?" The sandy-haired figure exclaims, rushing towards you. A dull throb pounded in your head and you wince as he inspects the side of your head, fingers running through your hair. You flinch away, battling the urge to punch his face in. That would....not be an ideal reaction. As much as you wished it were.

Oliver looks at you with concern, practically dragging you inside the house. Bossy much. You nearly mutter to yourself. He darts off to the bathroom, you being yanked along with him as he does so. He sits you down on the ground, carefully tending to any wounds you had. You didn't know how to react. What if I hit him. Are explosives an option here? You think to yourself, but after taking a look at the worry written across his face, you rule out that response instantly. No. Don't be stupid. Just...sit.

"Are you alright? What happened? Gosh, I can't stand when you're out so late!" He frowns, inspecting your face and dabbing a cotton ball over your wounds. You flinch at the sting of the alcohol cleansing the open cuts and scrapes. You couldn't stand the doting and affection. It was so...weird. It made you feel fuzzy in a weird warm way that was just..eugh. What the fuck