713/Does This Blouse Also Come in Slade

Does This Blouse Also Come in Slade
Date of Scene:	23 March 2020
Location:	Starling City department store
Synopsis:	Slade Wilson follows Vanessa out of the Queen estate, and questions her on who she is and why she's in Oliver's life.
Cast of Characters:	Vanessa Carlysle, Slade Wilson

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Vanessa Carlysle has posed:
The black SUV leaving the Queen mansion did not look to have Oliver Queen in it. But it did have one of the security men who have been seen about the mansion of late, and a dark-haired woman in her twenties who has also been about the place enough that even minor amounts of surveillance would have spotted her.

The SUV headed into town from the posh area where Oliver's family estate is. Heading over to one of the better districts for shopping, the vehicles parks in a parking garage, and then the man, wearing a black suit and looking rather fit beneath it, walks Vanessa Carlysle down the street and into a large department store that caters to a high end clientele.

Within, the pair walk through the racks of clothing and over to the ladies section. Vanessa says something to the man, grinning at him and getting a smile back as she pats his shoulder and then moves through the racks and displays. She picks out a few things, carrying them with her, before eventually motioning towards the fitting rooms. The security guard nods, and Vanessa disappears into the back area, going into one of the little rooms within.

True to the store's decor, the interior of the one Vanessa chose has a trio of mirrors, as well as a pair of comfortable chairs.

Slade Wilson has posed:
A white-haired man in a pair of polarized sunglasses casually browses a variety of items on display, although he moves in such a way as to avoid turning his back to any exit ... while, at the same time, attempting to maintain line of sight toward the women's clothing section.

He scratches his left ear, and a moment later a pre-teen runs up toward the security guard. "Hi!" the youth says cheerfully before throwing a haymaker at the guard's groin and sprinting off elsewhere in the store.

Meanwhile, the white-haired man slips through the oblique corner of the entryway into the fitting area. He takes a moment to scan the rooms before approaching one of the doors. "Everything alright in there, miss?" he asks in as cheerful a tone as a gravelly voice can achieve.

Vanessa Carlysle has posed:
The guard doubles over partway, groaning, but is apparently disciplined enough to not leave his charge. "Stupid kid," he says, though the distraction is more than enough for someone of Slade's experience to slip into the fitting rooms unseen.

Within her little room, Vanessa pulls on the shirt she'd picked out. It's fitted to cling to her in pleasing ways without looking like it's meant to be too revealing. "Something that looks nice that his mother won't object to," she murmurs to herself, turning to see it from the side and behind, when she hears the man outside the room.

"Yes, everything's good," she says through the door, which she hasn't realized she forgot to latch. That she forgot speaks of her distraction on the clothes. Vanessa almost always locks things. Habitually so even.

Slade Wilson has posed:
A slow, silent hand tests the door--and when it's clear the latch hasn't been set, Slade Wilson quickly pulls the door open and slips inside, closing the door just as quietly behind him.

He raises a finger and whispers. "Shh. It's time to be quiet for just a moment. I don't want to hurt you right now. If you answer my questions, all will remain well, and you can enjoy your outing here. Raise your voice or alert the guard and--well, things won't be pleasant for anyone."

The man tilts his head slightly to one side, his jaw setting. "Understand?"

Vanessa Carlysle has posed:
The first that Vanessa spots of the door opening is the movement in the mirror behind her. She starts to turn and say again that she's fine, when she realizes that Slade isn't attired like someone who works here.

Her eyes widen a little bit and then he's giving her those instructions. Vanessa looks to where the clothes she brought in are hanging. Her purse isn't there. She left it with the guard. Which means her gun is with him as well.

The young woman swallows, staying calm, but obviously tense from what is happening. "Alright," she says quietly. She has somewhat large, sloe eyes that stay locked on him. Also there's a certain bearing to her. A gentle elegance, that is noticeable despite the small amount of tension.

Slade Wilson has posed:
"You've been associating with Oliver Queen recently," the man declares more than inquires. "That's one of his men outside."

He pauses for a moment to exhale softly. "I need to know who you are. What you're doing." He pauses again. "How important you are to Queen. And how important he is to you. That is--surely you understand that someone as high-profile as Queen can attract enemies. Dangerous enemies. And enemies can sometimes inspire revenge fantasies."

Turning his head just a bit to one side, Slade calls out in that put-on cheerful tone: "And if you like that top, miss, there's a line of skirts meant to go with it. I'm happy to show you when you're done!"

Vanessa Carlysle has posed:
The young woman's expression shows a brief flash of surprise at the first question, as if the questions being about Oliver were unexpected to her.

She stays quiet, calm demeanor quickly returning as the man tells her what he wants to know of her. The talk of revenge fantasies causes subtle signs of stress in her expression.

"Not anyone important enough for those," she tells him. "My name is Vanessa. I'm an escort. Just someone for him to pass time with. I'm here to pick out something he might like to see me in," she says.

Someone with finely tuned senses when it comes to picking out lies, might feel there's a web being woven of truth and lie there, a mixture that misses things and speaks others truly.

Slade Wilson has posed:
"It's an honorable move, you know," Slade replies quietly. "The move to try and mitigate a potential disaster--in this case by downplaying truths." He nods slowly. "I understand. I do."

"But let's say you're being honest," the man continues. "Maybe you see yourself as just an escort for Queen. But is that how he sees the relationship? Is that the extent of his perceived value in you?" He nods at the mirror. "Or is it that you're dressing for the job you have rather than the job you want?"

"It's rare that I have as little information about someone as I do of you," Slade adds. "So what you tell me is important. To me. And to Queen."

Vanessa Carlysle has posed:
Vanessa shows little signs of nervousness, but overall she's probably handling the moment better than most would. "I don't know who you are though. I can't even really say I know much about Mr. Queen. What happened that you're worried about this revenge thing?"

Vanessa holds up her hands. "He always seemed like a decent enough guy. But I mean... most rich people didn't end up getting rich without doing... you know. Something. But, that isn't really any of my business. You want to know what I mean to him? I don't know. I mean, I hear he's a real party guy. I figure when he's done having his fun, that'll be it. And I'll have a few hopefully nice memories. And maybe some nicer clothes, and money to pay some rent."

The young woman looks down, the first her eyes have not met Slade's. "I don't want anything to happen to me though. I didn't do anything to you, that I know of. I'm just, you know. Vanessa. Trying to get by."

Again, there's some truth there. Maybe a little less than the previous time. But she's pretty darn good actually.

Slade Wilson has posed:
The white-haired man is quiet for a long moment before he finally utters a single syllable: "Hm."

Clearing his throat, he nods. "Alright. Perhaps that's all there is to it. Perhaps you'll never see me again. After all, as you note, you didn't do anything to me." The man pauses. "Unless, of course, it turns out you've lied to me. And then ... then you /have/ done something to me."

A hand drops to the door handle, and he nods at the woman's outfit. "The color works well on you."

Then, he slips back out into the fitting area entrance. "I'll bring you one of those skirts now, miss," the man calls, briskly striding out toward the racks of clothing and then, just as briskly, into the back, employee-only, area.