His heart fell. Past midnight? Of course he had to go, or his parents would raise a huge alarm. He brushed back his hair, sitting upright and stretching a little, spying his old costume clothes scattered around the floor just below the bed. He didn't want to hurry off---not yet---and leave the rustic beauty of the gypsy camp and its colorful, kind people. There was nothing about them that said 'murderer' or 'thief'. In fact, many politicians in the city were awful, where the people here were kind and friendly and accepting of just about everyone, it seemed.

"I'll definitely be there! Even if I have to break away with whatever excuse I can muster up." Oliver smiled, gathering his clothes and shaking them out before sliding them on. "I mean, I'd love to see what you're selling, too... I might even buy some, maybe... However you make it, it's really good." Smiling, Oliver thought of the thick bottles and the amber-toned alcohol inside. He was usually exposed to very light, expensive beers and champagne, little beyond that. "I wouldn't mind hearing more of your singing, either..." Oliver said after a moment, lacing his leather shoes up and smiling at Jean-Sal.