The truth of the matter was that he didn’t want her to stay here. Not alone. The presence of Nathan’s<i>side project </i>that she had uprooted now that he was gone left Oliver feeling uneasy and that part of him that would always be the protective white knight was striking out from the doom and gloom that hung in the air over them, following them around. He knew that the thought was chauvinistic rather than chivalrous, but he couldn’t help him. With the testosterone throwing a fit through his blood stream, he found himself shaking his head.<br/><br/>“Actually, I’m going to insist that you and Dunkin come stay with me, or let me help you with this mess on the bed,” he decided for her, even using the disaster of the bedroom as an excuse. The unspoken, purely selfish reason still resonated between the two of them: Oliver didn’t want to be alone with himself either. He had been drinking too much, obsessing over closed cases as the ghosts of his past reached out to tap him on the shoulder now that the other man was dead. So when his voice, turned suddenly gruff, sounded out with his decision, it was without apology and was not formed like a question. He still had his pride that kept him from asking for a place on her couch, which was only strengthened with his next words.<br/><br/>“It’s not healthy for you to be here by yourself, Gen. Look at this place. You have to<i>leave </i>it eventually, even if it's just a walk around the block. I know what you're feeling, is what I'm trying to tell you here. I went through the same thing with my sister and Nathan, well...” His jaw clenched and with it, so did his arms around her. Unbidden, he dipped his head down so that his face nuzzled the top of her head. There was that loitering selfishness that had him breathing her in a little too deeply, but he also didn't stop her from pulling back from him when she did.<br/><br/>His whiskey-turned eyes sought hers for a long, lingering moment before he swiped a hand over the heavy stubble across his face as if to wash away any impure thoughts he might have been having about his dead friend's woman.<i>Too soon, Damsdale</i>, he silently reminded himself. Except that she smelled of shampoo, and soap, and a scent that was purely her wrapped up in warmth. And the feel of her soft curves pressed against his chest had tempted him to sink his fingers into the unruly curls and free them from the ponytail she still had them all pulled back in.<br/><br/>The smile he forced on his face was a jagged line that pulled back his lips away from his teeth, resembling more of a grimace than a smile. It crinkled the corners of his eyes wryly when she mentioned his ex from a few months prior and shook his head.<br/><br/>“Come on, Gen, pay attention.<i>Audrey </i>and I broke up three months ago. Nathan and I went out drinking to celebrate and I had to crash on the couch after making fine use of your toilet,” he teased her lightly, a hint of his old spark rising to the surface. The smile suddenly turned wolfish as he moved to follow her down the stairs after he secured his new inventory in his pocket.<br/><br/>He waited until they had reached the bottom of the staircase before he spoke again because it had taken him that long to mull it over in his mind that he wanted to reveal more than he initially wanted to. But with the presence of the gun, with what he knew the photographs he had really meant, and the knowledge he had regarding Nathan's death, it was hard for him to keep his tongue to himself. And seeing the worry in her eyes wrestled with his own inner turmoils.<br/><br/>“It wasn't a normal bust that got him killed. There was nothing routine about it, in fact. He wasn't technically on duty. You deserve to know that,” he said, tone hushed and eyes searching.