exchaser flint: *Marcus walks toward the main gate, dressed in his normal clothes, though he is wearing old quidditch gloves and has his broom over one shoulder, fully intending to use the pitch whether Oliver wants him to or not, stops at the gate and waits, like a good little boy*

Coach Oliver W: *Oliver saunters down the path in old, comfortable clothes - including a t-shirt that says "Gryffindor House Quidditch Champs, 1993-94. He smiles, almost warmly.* Evening.

exchaser flint: *raises an eyebrow slightly at the shirt, leaning on his broom, one hand on his hip, the pose very confident and sure, his lips curl up into something that could be a smirk, could be a smile -- it's difficult to tell with Marcus* Nice night, isn't it? *his voice almost manages to sound friendly*

Coach Oliver W: *Oliver's brazen smile does not falter* It is at that. *He sounds as if he's meeting an old friend.* I see you're all ready for a run about the pitch. Shall we?

exchaser flint: *Marcus inclines his head, his smirk widening* Oh, let's. Should be very interesting. *he shoulders his broom again, raising his eyebrows as he steps through the gate making sure to pass as close to Oliver as possible, falling back into the old game of intimidation simply because it's fun*

Coach Oliver W: *Oliver steps back, scowls, reasserts his smile and falls into step* So...you spoke to Percy and he came back in one piece.

exchaser flint: *Marcus chuckles because he made that smile falter, quite proud of himself for that little victory, glances over at Oliver as he walks* Of course. Just like I said he would. *He smirks* Oh, didn't you trust me?

Coach Oliver W: I trust you, Flint. About as far as I can throw you. *Angles towards the pitch* Can I ask a question without you taking a swing at me?

exchaser flint: I'm heartbroken. I'll have to rectify that. Or would. If I cared. *Still walking along side him, cocks his head slightly* That depends. What's the question?

Coach Oliver W: *Oliver chews on his lower lip, a habit since his school days.* I was curious... *Stops, obviously uneasy, forges ahead with a question quite obviously not the one he originally started with.* Why did you want to see Percy? You hated him almost as much as you hated...hate? me.

exchaser flint: *Marcus sighs, glances over at him, then back ahead* Because I was bored? *He shrugs* Because it was something to do and it very obviously annoyed you? *He glances at him, sighing again, obviously speaking reluctantly, practically forcing the words out* Because he offered, and I was curious.

Coach Oliver W: *Oliver starts walking again* I'll admit, I was worried. You've done some...awful things in the past. But... I don't know...I think I maybe want to try and talk about things with you. Tell you I'm sorry in person.

exchaser flint: *Marcus continues ahead as well* We were in a public place, Wood. People saw him enter, people saw him talk to me, and those journal things show that he was meeting with me. Even I'm not stupid enough to do something with all that against me. *He raises an eyebrow slightly* I've already accepted your apology once. *Again he's having to force the words out and curb his sarcasm like he promised* But perhaps we should....chat.

Coach Oliver W: *Oliver nods* Flint... Marcus... I.... Okay, here it is, why can't you play Quidditch anymore? You can obviously still see, and as you're here, can still fly. *Braces himself, wary look on his face*

exchaser flint: 'Marcus' is fine. *Marcus shakes his head, glancing up at the sky, this being a topic he doesn't like to talk about. At all. But he refrains from simply punching Oliver to end the discussion, his jaw tightening with the effort though* Because. I have no periphial vision in my left eye. Makes playing a bit difficult.

Coach Oliver W: *Oliver senses he's on dangerous ground, but forges ahead.* You could, well, you know...compensate. Not enough to play in the majors, maybe...but there's plenty of minor teams. If you practiced enough... *Oliver sounds genuinely eager, but equally nervous*

exchaser flint: *Marcus cuts his eyes to Oliver, stopping as he turns fully to him, his voice very clipped and controlled* There is no compensation...I have a blind spot. That makes me weak. *He puts all the stress on that last word, and he sounds more disgusted with himself than anything. He shakes his head, eyes falling shut as he makes a frustrated sound in his throat. He waves a hand absently* Maybe. With practice.

Coach Oliver W: *Oliver is quiet for a moment, seeing a shaky bridge that he should not dare step upon. Some part of him, laced in guilt, moves him, though.* I could help you, I think. If you came by the school, after hours, we could practice. You never know until you try.

exchaser flint: *Marcus's eyes open at that, and they've darkened to a near black. There's a lot of anger there, and Marcus lifts his chin, his voice growing cold, nearly going back to the tone he used so much in school, but not quite* I don't take well to pity. *He's tempted though, almost willing to do anything for the chance to play again. Almost.*

Coach Oliver W: *Oliver grins, that same cocky smile he used to flash when he'd block a shot of yours* I don't like you enough to pity you. I did a stupid thing and deserve to either be beaten bloody by you or to help you overcome the injury I dealt. Personally, I'm hoping for the second choice. If you opt for the first...well, I do run faster than you.

exchaser flint: *Marcus blinks, smirking slightly* You don't like me enough? Oh, and here's me not caring. *He steps closer, still smirking and it's nearly a warm gesture, but it's not reaching his eyes at all* You're lucky that 'eye for an eye' is not acceptable punishment. Otherwise, I would be very justified. *His smirk widens into a near smile, and it actually does warm his eyes just slightly* And I can hex you faster than you can run.

Coach Oliver W: *Oliver gazes almost shyly at you* I always thought you were a fabulous Quidditch player. That counts for something close to 'like'. *Looks nervous* You could Hex me...but that wouldn't go over too well with your new friend. *Tries to look brave* I'm offering, Marcus, as one Quidditch player to another, to help you you learn to play around your injury.

exchaser flint: *Marcus blinks, having not expected compliments, certainly not from Wood, and he shakes his head, exhaling slightly* Yes. Well. You're... *He sighs, finally forcing the words out and they are genuine despite his reluctance*I've always know you were a good Quidditch player. *He smiles slightly then, chuckling* Ah, well, the sacrifices one makes for friendship. *He glances at Oliver, nodding finally* Fine. Let's say I accept this little deal. For one, any mention of me needing help will get you killed. I don't like being weak. I don't like people pointing it out. I will make it quick, but I will kill you.

Coach Oliver W: Marcus, I don't want people knowing I associate with you. Think of my reputation! *grins* Oh, wait, I'm not supposed to use humor until you teach me how... I tell you what, I'll reserve the pitch so no one comes straggling in, I'll practice with you and you can teach me how to be funny and no one has to know we do anything but hate each other. Except maybe Percy.

exchaser flint: *Marcus shakes his head, laughing slightly* No, you're not allowed to use humor. At all. I see I've got my work cut out there. We may have to start from scratch. *He considers for a moment* All right. We'll continue to hate each other in public. You'll help me and I'll help you. It's a mutually beneficiant agreement, I think. *He sighs slightly, finally looking away, running a hand through his hair, saying softly* Thank you, Oliver. *Again, he's obviously saying it with great reluctance*

Coach Oliver W: *Oliver shrugs and grips Flint's shoulder* I know how much those words must be like vinegar on your tongue, so I appreaciate them. Now, come on, let's get to the air and see what we can do.

exchaser flint: *Marcus shrugs off Oliver's hand, nodding slightly* Yes, well, that will be the only time you hear them, and I won't be apologizing. *He gives Oliver a pointed look* For anything. I don't do either well, and especially not to people I'm just now learning to tolerate. *He nods, almost to himself and turns to continue toward the pitch*

Coach Oliver W: *Oliver smiles at his back and shakes his head. "Same old Flint. Hard as nails and sour as lemons," he thinks.* I don't expect to, and I didn't you would be. I'll take your agreeing to this as an expression of both. *He follows to the pitch, mounts his broom and soars to the sky.*

exchaser flint: *Marcus smiles slightly, careful not to let Oliver see that, but otherwise doesn't say a word, mounts his own broom, pushing off and into the sky*