He didn't want to think about the fact that the townhouse would never be the same. It was only supposed to be a starter home for Nathan, but as the years flew by and budgets were cut, it had become a permanent home for the other man. Oliver himself had bought a three bedroom, two bath on the outskirts of town just two years past, preferring the quiet of suburbia over the shrill of the city. Nathan had simply preferred to be walking distance from anything he could consume – until Gen had come along to feed him.<i>Never marry someone just because you're hungry</i>. That was the rule of thumb, passed down from mother to mother. Now that there was a generational shift in the air, now it was girls as well as boys who were told that little bit of advice. It was why Oliver now knew how to cook. And he even enjoyed it sometimes.<br/><br/>When the door swung open and he was greeted by the chaos that was Dunkin instead of his friend's grieving girlfriend, a smile actually tugged at the corners of his mouth. Hooking his fingers through the plastic loops, he pushed the Chinese over his shoulder so that he could embrace the dog with a one armed hug and got a good, wet lick right across his lips as gratitude. He turned his head off to the side, then buried his face into the dark mane of fur as the dog clambered excitedly at the attention. Calloused fingers sifted through the animal's thick fur for a long time before he extracted himself from the beast and pulled himself back up from the crouch he had bent himself to.<br/><br/>He loomed a good six foot, four inches and had a stockier build than his former partner. Where Nathan had been almost lanky with his toned physique, Oliver was simply more solid and fine tuned. Thick muscle stretched across his chest and roped around his biceps, outlined underneath the tee he had dragged on before heading over there. Standing before Gen, he felt like a giant in comparison to the diminutive figure.<br/><br/>“It's eight thirty,” he stated kindly, his brief smile fading into concern as he stepped closer and gave her the same one-armed treatment he had given to Dunkin. Only Genevieve he dragged in close against his chest, his breath sighing against her hair.<br/><br/>“It's going to be OK, alright?” Posed as a question but still said in the rhetoric, it was hard to say whether or not he said the words to convince himself, her, or both. Stepping back, he studied her face for a long moment before moving on inside the townhouse and offering her the bags of food.<br/><br/>“It's all for you. You need it,” he joked, but the humor fell flat when the smile he offered didn't quite meet his eyes. Clearing his throat, he moved down the hall and to the kitchen.<br/><br/>“You needed help with a few things?”