Owner	Pose
Oliver Queen	It is a day like any other at Queen Consolidated - your typical Tuesday afternoon, with employees either hard at work, hardly working, or grabbing lunch at the cafeteria. The sun is out, so no small number of them are collected outside in the little concrete park away that at night is populated by skate boarders. One noteworthy difference is that today, the scion of the Queen Family, Oliver, has actually shown up in the building. Dressed in a finely tailored suit of navy blue with light grey pinstripes, he has greeted and shaken hands with most of the staff as he has come in. While not often showing his face around the building, he has made a point of memorizing the names and faces of all of the employees that he encounters - from the security team to the janitorial staff. His attention and focus on everyone has endeared him to the rank and file of the company in ways that his father and mother never could. The Board, on the other hand - they see a young man without proper experience and an annoying tendency to try to "do the right thing". So his visits for business purposes are, indeed, often few and far between. It's unclear what business has actually called Oliver to the building today, but after exhanging polite greetings and inquiries about the families of those he runs into, he had popped into one of the research wings of the building for a short meeting. His business concluded, he made his way to the cafeteria, apparently deciding to eat among the people rather than whatever fancy lunch restaurant his unlimited Amex could get him into. He walks in slowly, a slight limp visible - he probably tripped over a champagne bottle or getting out of a limo.
Felicity Smoak	It's how it's supposed to go, right? Across a crowded cafeteria instead of a smoke-filled room, one is to find their one true love? It's the stuff of movies, of novels written over the course of centuries. Nope. On a lovely spring day, the sun shining and such, Felicity at least has an office with windows. Her view may not be the best, but at least she can see when the sun rises, when it sets; in all sorts of weather. Like today, she's very aware that she's inside when the world seems to want to be out-. The world can have it. Instead, the IT wizard is *click*ing through the corridors, ignoring the faint whispers of the gracing of presence, and turns into the cafeteria. Her hair is up in the work pony-tail, glasses ever present. She's dressed in 'business casual', that is, both ready for a meeting at a moment's notice AND ready to take a jacket off the moment privacy is gained. Blue eyes search the menu items on display at the entrance, and a brief frown creases her lips. Looks like a salad again.. and with a sigh, she takes a place in line for lettuce and fixings. Brief smiles are given at random co-workers she knows, she's acquainted with, and the occasional nod from another is given. After all, even in QC, females in a tech consortium are somewhat rare, unless in an administrative function.. something Felicity abhors. It's in one of those room scans that she spies a familiar form, limping familiarly. Her gaze starts at that limp, moves up slowly to land on his face, and there it lingers on the handsome visage for a good three-count before she turns away. "Don't stare, don't stare.." is muttered softly, the beginnings of that external, internal conversation.
Oliver Queen	Despite the mild limp, Oliver is quite capable of moving around the room. In fact, despite receiving an offer from no less than three people, Oliver "Man of the People" Queen moves to join the cafeteria line himself. He has always felt that showing a willingness to be like the others is not only fair, but inspires loyalty. And so he walks up to the line, engaged in a deep conversation with Reginald from accounting. He remembered that Reginald was a Gotham Wildcats fan, despite having lived in Stag country for the past several years, and the two were chatting up the recent football draft. Reginald contends that this year will be the Wildcats year, and Oliver just shakes his head as the two of them find their way up to the line. Fortunately for Felicity, Oliver's progress was slow enough that Wanda from marketing slipped up behind her just before Oliver picked up his tray. So as Reginald finally concludes with his attempt to convince Oliver that the Starling Stags are doomed on their Christmas Day matchup, Oliver turns his attention to the woman to this left as he starts to head through the line. "Believe it or not, it was at a poker game," he explains as Wanda asks about his limp. She was an older woman, a good friend of his father's, and the two had often exchanged perhaps less-than-HR-approved barbs at each other at the office parties. In fact, she was one of the first women he had practiced his "game" on, back when he was a mere 8 years old. It was not quite as cute and charming now, but she was a good sport about it and it was an echo of a simpler time. "I thought I was going to win a royal flush and take the pot, but I'd lost track of the Ace." He laughs softly. "I was so distracted when I got up to grab a drink, I tripped over my stool and went down like a sack of potatoes." Wanda and Reginald both laugh as Oliver demonstrates a bit of what the fall must have looked like, as he nudges his tray along. "Needless to say, I didn't end up buying back in, but it wasn't all bad." He grins, lowering his voice a bit conspiratorially, but not nearly enough that the rest of the folks in the line couldn't hear. "I had the /hottest/ nurse ever take care of my ankle. So I lost the pot, but it was /well worth it/ let me tell you." He sighs contentedly. "If I close my eyes, I can still feel her hands on my leg..."
Felicity Smoak	Most of the hot food looks either unappetizing, or totally would mean breaking even the barest rules of kosher; thus, the salad. Even then, she's picking off the bits of cheese at the self-serve in order to go for the chicken. No ranch dressing; balsalmic vinegar with a touch of fig. Perfect. Still, Felicity is listening to the chatter behind her; how can she not hear it? The guffaws, the posturing, the puff and ruffle of which team will make what spread in which playoff. It's more than enough to cause her to roll her eyes and try, really, really try not to respond. So hard. Finally, as the final bits of croutons are place atop the creation, the words that rise soon enough about the injury, how it was gained.. and the nurse? She turns her head away, cheeks pinkening as she works, and fails, to try to stop listening. It's the laughter afterwards; they all know Oliver's reputation, after all. "Did you get her phone number?" is one such question posed by the crowd listening to the story. It's how they live vicariously, after all. "Redhead or brunette?" As if they're the only brands?
Oliver Queen	Sure, they were hanging on the story. They expect a classic Oliver punchline. And true, many of them wish they were him, and listening to these stories are the closest they can get to glory. But perhaps Oliver surprises them, as he continues along, nudging the tray, selecting his own grilled chicken caesar salad. He shakes his head. "I didn't ask. Honestly - she was just, the nicest person ever." He lets loose a soft, wistful sigh. "Dedicated to her job, attentive. She doesn't need some crazy rich guy like me coming in and bringing chaos to her life." He continues down the line, snagging an apple, nearly at the end. "Sounds funny to say, but /she/ was the one out of /my/ league." Both Wanda and Reginal are quiet, reflecting on his for a moment. Oliver, being Oliver, can't just end it there, though. "BUT," he says, tossing the apple in the air, flashing that Oliver Queen grin. "I /do/ have another ankle, so..." He laughs, as does his audience, far louder perhaps than the joke actually merits. "...maybe I will run into her again." Which is when he turns without looking and nearly collides with Felicity from IT.
Felicity Smoak	Hanging on every word of the story, really. This is how the 'old boys' (and girls) get a look back at not only their younger days, but hearken back to when Robert was roaming the halls of his company. While not as 'beloved' at the time as Oliver is now, history is almost always looked back on with rose colored glasses, even for Robert. "Really?" They sound disbelieving. Incredulous, even. "She'd be nuts to say 'no'." "Out of your league? It's a //nurse//." The complaints that a good story has been thwarted means his audience sends up a few grumbles, which has Felicity's ears burning.. are they red too? Oliver's parting shot, however, does get renewed laughs from his audience, complete with, 'get her number next time'.. and as he turns, Felicity isn't paying too much attention to proximity and too much attention to proximity at the same time; to the point where she can //feel// his presence. That near collision is close enough, however, that her salad gets jostled; not by anything he's done, but by her own reaction to it. Looking quickly at her side, she glances quickly away and takes another side step. "Sorry, Mr Queen," is murmured. Not much for the crowd consumption, but it's at least on record that she'd called him by name! Mostly.
Oliver Queen	As he turns and realizes he is about to collide with Felicity, Oliver's reflexes kick in. He twists and raises the tray, and manages to avoid an actual collision, keeping his salad free so that other than Felicity's twitch, there is no harm befalling anything. "No, Ms. Smoak, I should be paying attention to you," he rattles off quickly. Another reflex. It would have been the same to anyone. Except Oliver stands there as she keeps walking away, the words he said somehow coming back into his mind. He tilts his head a bit, lost in thought, until Reginal nudges him. Oliver snaps from his reverie, and nods. "Sorry, was thinking about that nurse again..." He flashes a grin, more laughter coming, and Oliver nods to the cashier. "Put the lunches today on me, Betty." He starts to slowly hobble away for a today - MUCH slower than his way in, of course, because that clever twist to avoid hitting Felicity twinged his ankle again like a mo fo, sending pain all the way up his leg. Karma is a bitch.
Felicity Smoak	The quick step to the side gives them both a little extra room for the 'dance', though it's more than evident on his face that he'd stepped wrong, and he's paying for it now. It's all she can do, then, not to drop her salad and try to make herself a human crutch for him. Any other time, any other location, she's his girl, as it were. But right now? Instead, Reginald is quick on the uptake and is ready to give the man a chance to lean as he regains his balance //and// his wit. Can't mistake that concern in Felicity's eyes, however, and she presses her lips together before Oliver is offered that shoring up. "It's okay," she starts again, and pushes up her glasses. //Of course he should be paying attention to her!// She takes another half step back, giving a little more room before she gets her salad repositioned and she's ready to go. Talk of that nurse gains the laughter again, and she can hear it at her back as well as feel her ears turn a touch pink once more as she's heading towards the cashier. Pulling on her badge in order to pay out, the offer to pay for lunches is acknowledged by Betty, and a smile given to the IT geek. "Seems Mr Queen is buying today.. enjoy." "Um.. thank you." Felicity looks back again at the pained Oliver, and her shoulders drop a little. Still.. "Thank you." And she'll see him later.