"stay on your side of the armrest," he says, looking back towards his book.

"i'm bored," oliver practically whines. "c'mon, tell me what you're reading."

"it's the book of the month for dua lipa's book club," barou says, monotone. "and i'd like to spend my flight reading, not talking to you."

oliver hums. "i'm still hung up on you reading. like, we spent so much time together in 'lock and I never saw you read anything."

"well, i'm not a teenager anymore," barou says.

"is dua lipa the one who's all.. you want me~ i want you baby~ my sugarboo~ i'm levitating~"

"can you get a hobby or something?" barou asks sharply. "and start bringing it everywhere you go?"

"as it so happens, football is my hobby-"

"it's your job. a hobby is something you do in your free time."

"i like picking up people. is that a hobby? since you're the hobby police."

barou snaps his book shut and leans forward to his bag, pulling out his airpods and shoving them in his ears. he makes a point to ensure the noise cancelling is on before he turns back to his novel.

"you know! if you talk loud enough it dulls the noice cancelling!" oliver says, loudly and close to barou.

"we are not the only people on the plane," barou snaps. "go watch your stupid videos and leave. me. alone."

"i just want to know when you started reading. just tell me and i'll leave you alone," oliver reasons, albeit annoyingly.

barou looks him up and down, distrusting.

"scout's honor," oliver says, raising three fingers.

"you were never a boy scout," barou says.

"c'mon, i promise." oliver goes as far to bat his lashes.

"it's none of your business. if you'll excuse me." he turns back to the book again.

oliver huffs, throwing his head back. then, he gasps and sits up straight, turning back towards the other man. he reaches over and pulls out the man's airpod. "shoei..."

"i like when we're on a last name basis," barous says, reaching for the device and snatching it back.

"are you... seeing someone?" oliver asks, more interested in this than anything else.

barou takes a deep, steadying breath like he's learned in his anger management sessions.

"i mean, that's the only thing that could cause a brute like you to pick up a pice of literature and read it," oliver deduces.

is he that predictable? he's been made, but there's no chance he's going to give oliver any information about you-- there's no way he trusts the other man to act rationally with that information.

he clenches his jaw and puts his airpod back in. "i am."

"so you're getting laid? is that why you've been less..." he bites the air in an exaggerated manner and holds his hands up like claws.

"you." barou looks at him fully. "need a fucking hobby."

he turns to his phone, putting on some white noise to block out the man.