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Oliver looks surprised to see you walking towards him, but breaks into his signature lopsided grin to greet you. (+1 Oliver points) "Y/n!" He motions towards you. "Give me a hand, would you?"

"Of course." You smile as you walk over to him.

"I'm sorting these boxes out. I'd like to get all the food and water together over here, the fuel over there, and the weapons in the middle."

"Sounds good to me." You pick up a couple guns and bring them to the middle. "So, tell me about yourself."

"Well, my name's Oliver, I'm 25 years old, I'm supposed to be studying in France right now-"

"France?" You say in shock.

"Yeah, I'm a chef, and if it weren't for airlines closing down one day ago, I would be arriving in France in-" he checks his watch, "two hours." He grimaces.

"I'm sorry about that." You offer. "I was supposed fo be in Italy with some friends in a month."

"Let me guess," Oliver smiles, "you're an artist?"

"Coincidentally, yes," you reply, while laughing, "but I'm not there to study art. It was just supposed to be for fun, and to celebrate graduation. I guess neither of those things are happening." You sigh in slight annoyance. "At least we're alive, though we're stuck in America." You shrug.

"Haha, cheers to that." Oliver passes you a water bottle, and takes a swig of his with his pinky up. You laugh, and take a sip from yours.

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