he only realises how long he's been here when he tries to take another bite of dinner to discover there's nothing left on any of the three plates on his tray.

... well, shite.

he's been here since the start of dinner service, working his way through the maximum allowance of food he could get his hands on, copying out words he's barely reading onto a stack of paper a good few inches thick. but even though the meatloaf (what is it with the yanks and meatloaf, he can't understand it) is terrible and he's broken two pens, he's feeling pretty good. who wants to buy a textbook for a hundred dollars when they can buy one knocked off by a freshman in half an hour for thirty bucks instead? olly's not even subtle about his little 'business', any more, and when he finally stops and stretches he figures he's made himself at least a hundred dollars this evening. so that's good, but...

he's still hungry.

he stops and looks back towards the cafeteria counter, somewhat longingly, a sigh. he knows from experience that they're not going to give him anything else today, and any protests he could fall into a coma or something would just be met with 'hmm, maybe someone shouldn't have been using his powers so much, then'.

instead he resorted to scanning the busy tables, and zeroed in on a still mostly-intact plate at his own table. this was an opportunity. this was a chance.

"... oi, mate. you gonna finish that?"

@ursaring // yo i haven't actually threaded in like a year pls be gentle w me