lotsofwood;;
Alright, he tried the niceties. Honestly, Oliver still has unfinished business about Marcus’ team and their pathetic attempt at besting his team with their fancy brooms. “Oh c’mon, Flint, s’always a good morning on the pitch, innit’?
Raising a brow the the extreme level of testosterone this boy’s utilizing, he scoffs under his breath to his comment before the other pushes him and he stumbles back slightly, barely catching himself. At first he’s irritated, but that quickly subsides to humour as he manages a condesending smirk. “Oh, of course, Flint! My mistake! You must be excited to try and attempt to knock me off, since you finally got those fancy brooms you’ve always needed to even attempt to keep up.” He mocks slyly, picking up his broom from the ground before clicking his teeth before turning and taking a moment to speak back to Flint over his shoulder.
“Thankfully we don’t have to rely on such things, seeing we lack the sponsor you have.”
“You haven’t been knocked off your broom enough? I thought you hit your head so hard last year that you finally started to see keeper wasn’t for you.” He’s teasing to the best of his ability, though it comes out as more of a small threat (like most of his words did). A chuckle tumbles out of his lips, even though he was hoping to knock Oliver clean over. “First of all --those brooms are years old now, not that you would notice good quality. Your broom was your great-grandfather’s right? Maybe that’s why you can never make it in front of the hoops in time?”
“You should think about relying on it, might improve your game. In fact you guys are in need of a lot of things --like a swim!” In another second he is pushing Oliver again, much harder with the intention of having him fall into the lake.
