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Valentine's day was always a busy day for Oliver Queen. He didn't exactly hide it from any of the women that he was dating that they weren't alone. And even if he had, the tabloids certainly publicized his playboy nature. Life was easier when one didn't get too attached. There was less to lose. And not having one person to come home to meant that he didn't have to work as hard to hide his secret identity.
He only had one date for the day of, but he still needed to do something to acknowledge the other women in his life. So he ducked into the small flower shop to place an order for four bouquets to be sent and one to go. The brunette behind the counter gave him a look that was disapproving and just short of an eyeroll. He wasn't too busy to note that there was something striking about her-even under the oversized sweater and the quiet demeanor, she carried herself with the confidence and poise of someone who was athletic and possibly even versed in some sort of hand to hand fighting. Maybe she'd taken a few courses for self defense or something along those lines. There was also a small niggling sense of familiarity, though he couldn't quite place it.
It was only much later in the night when he'd been forced to ditch his date for League business that he was able to put his finger on that feeling. He'd been partnered up with the Canary again and there was a moment when he suggested that they just rush into a situation and fill the bad guys up with boxing glove and tranq arrows and she gave him that look.
He didn't work too hard to suppress a grin once her back was turned.
"Gotcha, pretty bird," he mumbled under his breath.
And suddenly, he couldn't remember why he'd sent anyone else flowers for this holiday or even whether he'd actually enjoyed his time with his date. He was exactly where he wanted to be today.