Chapter Text
“Where are you Oliver?” Felicity nibbled her lip, hands rubbing against her upper arms trying to warm herself up. “Miss Rochev is going to kill you,” if someone else hasn’t already’ she added mentally. She shook her head, dipping back into the Queen mansion, out of the cold.
“Mr Queen is going to be late, he’s extremely sorry, couldn’t be helped.” Felicity tried to smile disarmingly at a frowning Isabel Rochev.
“Where is he?” Smiling disarmingly did obviously not work on Miss Rochev. Or maybe Felicity just wasn’t very good at it.
How did Oliver manage it? Somehow, he managed to survive, nay flourish, in this world of thinly veiled threats, guising as polite culture. Polite culture included smiles and select friends, not everyone in Starling City who just might be stupid enough to invest in an ex-playboy, whose mother was currently incarcerated in jail for mass murder.
“He got a little held up; you know tying up some loose ends,” Felicity didn’t even believe herself. She was so not hot on this whole lying thing. She lived in a world of numbers and number didn’t lie. They didn’t hide, or cover. Numbers were numbers, people lied. And once again Felicity was lying to cover Oliver’s ass. Happily, I mean “I’m actually in direct contact with him now. Let me, let me check.”
Felicity tried her very best not to jump out of her skin, when gunfire spat into her ear. She glanced around, had anyone notice her jump? Thank goodness, one less lie. “You know what Oliver,” Felicity hissed under her breath, so neither the Bluetooth in her ear, nor the crowds of slightly tipsy socialites could hear her, “if Miss Rochev doesn’t kill you, I will, ”