All good things come to an end eventually.. or so Oliver's mum used say. The Snake knew this lesson in life perhaps better than anyone should at the young age of eighteen (just) years old. But that didn't make it any easier to deal with, and, although there was still a few weeks left, he was beginning to feel the impending unstoppable dread that the end was nigh...

The end of school that is... and boy, was it depressing.

But Oliver Greenwood wasn't good at being all mopey and depressed. His twitchy excitable personality would never allow him to just sit around feeling sorry for himself, so instead, when he felt blue, it would be replaced with an anxious, nervous, energy which escaped him in random, erratic outbursts of hyper obnoxiousness. When Oliver was in this sort of mood, he could be utterly unbearable to be around.

But there was no one around to channel the feeling onto, so instead he hovered outside the kitchens, nervously dancing from foot to foot looking like a small child who was desperate for the toilet, wondering whether stealing the tray of warm sugar filled chocolate chip cookies he could see through the slightly ajar kitchen door was a good idea when he was already unable to keep still.