"Do whatever you wish to do," Oliver said. "As big a pain as Skullic is, the man does seem to be trying to help, even if he has strange notions as how to do so. He would be well served to be more informed."
"I have strange notions, do I?" Skullic growled. "I'm the far more normal man between the two of you. You would do well to remember that I am your elder. That I might have wisdom that goes beyond your years."
"I know well enough that you have all that – it is written in the wrinkles on your forehead," Oliver said.
"Wrinkles on my..?" Skullic ran a hand over his forehead, brushing aside the locks of his dark blonde hair as he did so. "I have no wrinkles," he protested. "I'm barely at thirty…"
Mary took his hand in her own, relieving him of his plight. "He's only teasing you, my dear," Mary told him gently. "He wouldn't do it half so much if you didn't give such an amusing reaction."
