9214/Just another night in the Batca-- no, Arrowcave

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Just another night in the Batca-- no, Arrowcave
Date of Scene: 21 December 2021
Location: Arrowcave
Synopsis: Serves Ollie right. Blind date?! No, really.. Oliver is the hero of this story, having been stood up, he ends up saving people and coming back the walking wounded afterwards. And the Les Mis tickets don't go to waste!
Cast of Characters: Felicity Smoak, Oliver Queen




Felicity Smoak has posed:
'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy'. It's something the business world tends to forget, as does the world of high tech. Too much skin in the game, as it were. Too much 'make or break' for a day off. For a few hours off.

For a night off.

Felicity is in the 'cave, her three monitors lighting the area nicely, with their lines of data, charts and graphs, and one screen that looks suspiciously like a 'boss screen', something very popular in the late '80s to convince supervisors that employees were being productive when in actuality they were playing TETRIS. It's really a thing. She's dressed down; sweater, skinny jeans with a pair of sneakers; very geek chic. On her head, kipped slightly to the side, is a santa hat, which even for the season is a little out of place for the blonde. She does sport a pair of large blue snowflake earrings, however. It's her initial nod to the holiday season.

Blue eyes are glued to the middle monitor, and as is her wont, she's typing quickly and talking to the screen as if it'll fulfill her demands by voice command rather than her input. "Come on.." She sounds encouraging at first before she erupts in frustration, "Why would you do that? Seriously? What in the world would even make you consider that?"

Slapping her hands on the desk, she pushes away from the table on her rolly chair only a foot or so, twisting to look at one of the other monitors, her voice lowering in a murmur, "You wouldn't be that stupid, right? C'mon, Andrei. Just a quick look away.. just keep walking.. atta boy.. I got you.."

Oliver Queen has posed:
The door to the cave opens, and in strides a tired looking Ollie. Well, Green Arrow. He's in uniform. He tugs the hood back and peels off his domino mask as he groans, brushing his fingers over his blonde goatee. He blinks as he glances about the place before a hand rises to touch an acheing black eye. A fresh one, too.

He walks down the steps and over to the armoury, where he hangs his bow up and slings off his quiver of trick arrows. He's gotten more and more into testing those out since he swore off killing. He's trying to be a hero, damnit. It just...well, it's hard sometimes. He looks like someone or something roughed him up, and he's putting a little less weight on his left leg, while also showing the slightest signs that he might have a bruised rib or two. Considering the man, a slight appearance of pain probably means it's pretty bad.

"Nice hat, he grunts softly. Even when genuine, the man can't help but sound a hint snarky. "...I thought you were Jewish."

Felicity Smoak has posed:
Motion detectors.

Thea managed to sneak in around them; okay, she did set them off but Felicity didn't bother looking at them because she was too busy re-writing a script to a television program. That takes concentration!

This time, however, the blinkie light on the third monitor does gain Felicity's attention, and once she sets in the conditions and protocols, she spins around in her seat ostensibly to welcome him home, and even as she's speaking the words, they're sort of dying as they fall flat.

"Welcome back. How'd it go..."

Beat.

"That good."

Rising from her seat, the little puffball at the end of the hat gives a little jingle-bell tinkle, reminding her that it's there. That, and Oliver's comment, has her removing it and setting it aside. "Your sister's present. She was looking a little too happy when she came down. I suggest you talk with her."

Though now, with that out of the way, she begins to move towards him, grabbing a first aid kit as she does. "Besides, Hanukkah is over, and we don't have hats. Or bells. But we do get more than one night, so.."

Oliver Queen has posed:
"Hey, you should see the other guys," he replies with a chuckle. The chuckle makes him wince, though, and he shakes his head at himself. "I hate the Bratva. They just..." He nods at the mention of his sister, his brow furrowing a hint as he's told about her demeanor. "Mn. Okay."

Seeing the blonde get the first aid kit, he sighs and unlaces his black and green top, slowly pulling it up and off. How many abs does this guy HAVE? Well, there's a big bruise forming along one pec and down into his abs, either way. Small, healed scars mark his tanned skin here and there, showing the roughness of his life. "...Don't play nice."

He runs his fingers back through his blonde hair as his bright blue eyes follow Felicity as she gets closer, and he nods a bit. "Ah. No Hannukah hats? That's a shame. Hats make a holiday."

Felicity Smoak has posed:
"Mmhmm.." is murmured skeptically as she puts the kit on a horizontal surface. "Okay, sit down so I can.. uh.." Abs. Arms. Shoulders. She's seen them a hundred times, but each time up close and personal always sets her back for a few heartbeats. Now is no different.

"Right. No, no they don't. Where this time? And why didn't you tell me? I could have done.." And again, Felicity's voice sort of falls away as she searches for words, for those elusive 'things' she could have done to make things better. Bratva are old school. They're not necessarily high tech, and if they were? It means they had partners, which is not 'of the good'.

"... something."

Right. Ice packs.

Felicity removes a blue emblazoned plastic bag and 'pops' it, feeling the cold rush through. "Okay, here. With fabric. Never against your skin.."

Felicity looks up at him, pushes glasses back into place before she smiles- the expression both concerned and amused. "Hats, yeah. And songs. We don't have anyone that comes near Bing. You won't hear anyone singing about a White Hanukkah."

Oliver Queen has posed:
He grins softly and nods, reaching out to take the pack and wrap it in his costume shirt. He holds it to his ribs with a grunt. Yeah, that smarts. "I wasn't intending to. I was supposed to meet this person for a blind date and..." He waves it off. "...She stood me up, and then Bratva. Seemed like a good distraction, y'know?"

The second he gets any kind of look regarding the date, he looks helpless and holds his hands up. "The new executive demanded I meet her daughter. I couldn't tell her no."

Felicity Smoak has posed:
"Right." Blind date.

Felicity smiles tightly, and moving around so she can't be seen immediately for a reaction, she checks Ollie's back to be sure there aren't any cuts or scrapes that need attending. "That was stupid. Her standing you up, that is. I bet she thought you were some fat, balding guy that was an accounting major."

A shrug gives her shoulders a rise; one that looks a little too offhand, and she pulls a hand up to draw hair behind her ear. "Or worse." What could be worse?

"Where were you that the Bratva showed up? It seems a little convenient, doesn't it? I mean, you were probably dressed in a suit, tie.. dinner, maybe a show.." Sigh. "And no date.. and boom, Russians?"

Oliver Queen has posed:
"Pretty much. Well, sort of." He clears his throat and goes back to holding the ice pack to his bruised ribs. After a moment of awkward silence, he replies, "Alright, fine. I setup to meet her downtown at Georgios. I still have the Les Mis tickets for the late show that I was going to take her to. Then no-show and..."

He offers a small, lopsided grin, always acting like nothing really gets to him. "So I -might- have gone looking for trouble. I went down to 175th street and kicked in the back door on that brothel I've been eyeing. Shut it down, at least. Moved the trafficked girls to a safehouse. I'll get them somewhere safe tomorrow. The cops'll just send them back to...wherever."

Felicity Smoak has posed:
"I love Georgios."

That came out a little faster than it should have, an in her 'outside voice'. Felicity backtracks a little, covering up quickly and easily. "Too expensive, though. That's like a 'once a year' thing." Her salary is nothing in comparison to others, after all! She still lives in a one-bedroom walk-up.

Coming around towards his front again, the bruises are really forming, and they're going to be a lovely shade of green and purple before the evening is out. "'Might'. At least you got them out. You know, there is the Verdant's basement. That's pretty safe down there." With tunnels and the like!

"I'm glad you didn't get hurt worse. You //could// have called, you know. At least John. Or Roy."

Oliver Queen has posed:
"I know, I know..." He trails off then, and considers a bit. The man watches her tend to him with a lightly furrowed brow. He then fishes out his phone and checks the time, before hitting a number on his previously dialed numbers. He holds the phone to hsi ear.

"Hey, lucca! It's Oliver..." He trails, falling into pretty fluent Italian. 'Georgios' is mentioned more then once in whatever is being said. Finally he nods and hangs up.

"Alright. I need to shower. Put on something cute. The head chef is staying open a bit late for us, tonight. After that we can catch that show. If you want..."

He slides off the counter and picks up the santa hat, turning to set it jauntily atop her head. "...But you have to wear this. Deal?"

Felicity Smoak has posed:
"They would have come. Or-or-or I could have at least jammed their phones. Or, rerouted the police calls, if you wanted radio silence there. Or.. there actually could have been a million things.. okay, not a million things, but a lot. Really, a lot of things that could have been done. We're all just that good." Here's the slightly more relieved fussing, now that there's no obvious deformations; no cuts that need stitching, thankfully.

Taking a step back to look at Ollie in his entirety, Felicity cocks her head, a questioning expression rising to her face. Brows crease, and she pushes up her glasses with the back of a hand. "Wait.. what?"

Straightening, she looks down at herself. She's dressed 'casual'. Nothing near what Georgio's would require. Does she even have anything that is Georgio's level? Her breath catches in her throat as her mind races a million miles a second before, "Right.. uh.. no? I don't have anything that would go with that hat." She grimaces, good naturedly, as the hat is reset upon her head, and she shakes her head, the little bell ringing in the action.

"Okay, I'll be back soon. I'm sure I can come up with something."