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As a child, Oliver had adhered to a very strict schedule. School had dominated his life, everything else had centered around his daytime requirements. He woke up before school, and went to bed before midnight. Never did he see the hours of early, early morning. But as a (near) adult he was beginning to learn that daylight didn't hold as firm a grasp on him as he thought.

Early mornings, for example, had gotten earlier. And late nights were beginning to become a bad habit. During his shift in the Life labs, he had been handed a super large stack of papers. All data, to be transferred to the computers for analysis. He hadn't been told that finishing it was mandatory, but there was something calming about the clicking of keys, and the promise of patterns waiting to be discovered. Besides, Oliver had read the research documentation. He was almost as interested in the results as the team who had organized it all.

And that was what led to him sleepily being kicked out of the labs at six in the morning, when the early shift found him sleeping in front of the keyboard.

The kid was yawning and sleepily rubbing his eyes as he left the building, taking a shortcut past the training field. He wanted to finish what he started, despite the stiffness in his neck from sleeping at the desk. Oliver tried to rub out the pain. Should he get something to eat before going to bed? Did he even want to go back to sleep? The morning air was so cool and refreshing...

Oliver heard the thump thump of jogging-paced footsteps behind him, but he was not alarmed. It was a morning routine many hunters participated in, the health and stamina benefits were enormous for someone of this career choice. He had not been able to get into it himself, but that went for almost any form of exercise on the island. He wouldn't even be doing strength training if Harland hadn't somehow roped him into it. At this point it could hardly be considered more than "try not to be a complete wimp" training.

As it was, he moved to one side of the trail so the jogger could continue with minimal disruption of their pace. Except the jogger didn't continue. Oliver should have realized there were very few hunters who would have made such heavy footsteps with such a long pace. He shouldn't have been surprised when a very, VERY large form appeared in his peripheral vision.

"AH, um, h-hello!" He stammered with a huge start, suddenly even more wide awake from the scare than the prospect of continuing research. His heart was beating so fast the other trainee must have been able to hear it in the still morning air. But once the immediate startle was through, Oliver unknowingly found himself caught between the necessity of looking up to Arorangi's face, and his strong instinct to keep his head down. There was a great deal of mental turmoil over this unrealized fact, but surprisingly, not much fear. It was hard to be afraid of such a friendly guy, even if he was an intimidating giant.

"I-I, um... Research- I-I w-was working late," Oliver finally managed to stumble out, accompanied by a nervous and hesitant smile.

Shaking Oliver never worked as intended, he only seemed to get more rattled, rather than more alert. He had become unused to even these sorts of masculine gestures of friendship in the past six years, so both the pat on the shoulder and then the companionable arm made him feel a little awkward and out of place. But the discomfort was very different from his usual fearful panic.

"It was... uh... actually last night," Oliver replied sheepishly, frequently glancing down at the uneven ground on the path so he didn't trip and fall right out from under Arorangi's arm. "I-I sort of fell asleep... So I did get at least a couple hours!"

The kid was not going to mention that they were hours sleeping in an uncomfortable chair with his head on the computer desk. His neck ached just thinking about it, although that could also be due to that muscular arm's influence.

"I think I'm almost done growing anyway," Oliver added. 'B-but I... suppose... you would know best," he said as he snuck a glance upwards, with a small hint of amusement in his bashful tone. It was as close as he came to humour, such a dry little comment. It was also potentially flirting with a good beating which is why it was so rare. And so quiet.

It was a good thing lack of sleep had dulled Oliver's reflexes, although he flinched at the loud laugh, he failed to jump away from the oncoming hug. Instead he found himself nearly lifted off his feet. But his fears proved to be unfounded, aside from the temporary loss of footing it wasn't that bad, he wasn't even smushed to bits by those strong arms.

Then his toes were once again on the ground, and he shyly accepted the arm once again resting across his shoulders. The smiling comment made him blush, so he avoided that topic altogether.

"I-it's mostly inputting data at this stage," Oliver finally replied, "now it is almost ready for evaluation. I won't get the chance to perform the ANOVAs myself, I am still too new to the statistical software, and they didn't teach formulas for analysis of variance in highschool… B-but…" The boy paused unwillingly for a large yawn. "But I will be able to look for outliers, and I'll learn to test significance as we go."

The late night had made him more chatty than usual, and when he realized how much he had rambled, the blush he had been trying to forget simply got worse. Ending up in the Life division was the only break he had been given on the island, with ample opportunities to work without being in life-threatening situations and letting his panicking get him in trouble.

"U-um… Food s-sounds good," he mumbled sheepishly.

Oliver was unaware of the protection he was slowly earning. He had always been someone who was easy to push around, and on the island where a certain amount of shoving was expected, he truly expected to be a gopher and coffee-fetching lackey for the rest of his short life. He was sure he had survived this long only because he hadn't been tossed out on a mission as a meat shield.

Friendly respites like this challenged his self-depreciating notions, and on some level he was afraid he would grow to like this life too much. But those were thoughts for dark evenings, and lonely attempts at training.

"M-my school didn't have a rugby team, but isn't it a little bit like football?" Oliver asked shyly. He was still hesitating, testing the waters so to speak. He was not very good at making friends, or even social interactions at all, so at the risk of remaining distant for the rest of his life he often erred on the side of caution.

Leading the way to anything could be difficult with that arm across his shoulder, but Oliver did his best as a guide. A gentle pull one way or the other while talking was enough. It wasn't very long at all before the cafeteria was in sight.

"I-it sounds dangerous," Oliver said, sounding a bit doubtful. Football was scary enough to a kid like himself, but if you threw rules out the window, wouldn't it just become even worse? He couldn't help but file away Arorangi's suggestion in the same place as suggestions to go bungee jumping, or wrestle bears in a pit fighting tournament.

He shoved open the door, and held it open behind him for Arorangi to follow. "Yeah, they have lots of fruit- Look, they are putting out some new stuff!" He pointed to a counter on the far side where a simple assortment of fruit was laid out. New, greener bananas were added to the older spotty ones, but apples, oranges, and grapefruit were also evident. Apparently to Oliver that counted as 'lots' of fruit.

He took a tray for himself, and gave one to the taller trainee as well. "Just pick up what you want, b-but don't take more than you need, you might get some dirty looks from the staff..." Some of which looked bored, others downright irritable to be up so early to set out the breakfast foods.

"I'll meet you over there?" Oliver asked, gesturing over to the seating area.

Oliver had to tell himself it made plenty of sense, the mountain of food that was steadily accumulating on the other trainee's plate. Arorangi was a big guy, a HUGE guy in fact, and if he had enough energy to go jogging first thing in the morning it certainly meant he needed enough food to keep it up all day. He was not sure what sort of things Mist trainees had to cover, but it was likely more than infirmary and lab duty. Weapons training, certainly, which would have worn Oliver right down before the day was up.

Not to mention it probably took a lot of energy to be so outgoing and friendly! Since he was a clear and irrefutable introvert, Oliver did best when things were quiet, and spoke in a soft voice, and was more comfortable in his room alone than in a room full of his peers. All the energy in the world wouldn't be enough for him to maintain such an enthusiastic attitude from morning until night.

He slid his tray along, but by the time they sat down it became clear he was not as enthusiastic about breakfast. Oliver's breakfast looked like a picky child's meal, the bowl of corn flakes in milk sitting all on it's lonesome in the center of the tray. The only other item was a simple glass of orange juice.

"Um... Are you sure you can eat all of that?" The kid asked hesitantly, blinking at the overloaded tray Arorangi had sat down with.

Oliver kind of liked it when Arorangi laughed. It was warm and inclusive, the sort of laugh between friends rather than a stinging reminder that he didn't fit in anywhere. It put him at ease as the other trainee systematically wolfed down everything on the tray.

"You are from New Zealand?" The kid asked curiously. Having lived his whole life in a tiny, cold town, when he thought of New Zealand it was with grand, sweeping vistas from Lord of the Rings. His only real contact with things in the rest of the world were completely fictional sources, movies mainly. He had been a lonely kid without realizing it.

He was doing pretty well all in all, until Arorangi pointed the spoon in his direction. For a second Oliver just stared at the milk splatters between the two of them, and then had to cover his mouth to stifle the giggles threatening to come out. That one action was hilarious enough to the tired boy that he didn't even mind the "you are too scrawny" talk.

Oliver tried to take a bite of his cereal, but he barely got the spoon half way to his mouth before dropping it and trying not to laugh all over again.