perched against aged brick, carefully tucked beneath awning to protect an overpriced jacket. “ if only you had an 𝑎rrowcar to get you through this storm .. ” crooked grin * already framing lips.
i do think the early - era of the island reinforced it. there was no worry of morality there, it was survival. kill or be killed hammered into skull, ringing behind eyes every single time he deals the final blow.
i #do think that storms & rain in general is very soothing to him. the constant pitter patter of the rain & the rolling of the thunder may just be his favorite background noise.
/ oliver can’t stand silence to #me. even pre - everything he wasn’t a fan. it allows him too much time to get lost in his mind, to dwell on wounds he swore he healed. it just got worse after. he can’t tolerate it anymore, will do anything to fill it. he constantly has to have
Something playing, music, podcasts — anything to fill the gap. 9 times out of 10 he isn’t even paying attention to what’s on. during lulls in conversations (that he rarely allows) he’s constantly tapping his pen/fingers against the table.