"You can't sit there," a voice says, and Oliver is about to say, "Yes I can," when the voice has a face, and the face belongs to Marcus Flint, and he remembers that Marcus Flint could, would kick his ass.

So he says, "Too damn bad," instead, smirking, and wiggles himself comfortable, elbows balancing on his knees.

He knows Marcus is still there, can feel him, but carefully does not flinch, does not look.

"Well, you'd better make room, then," Marcus finally says, sharply, after a long pause and some shifting.

Oliver makes some room, and tries not to smile.