- Oliver Queen: ... It was John F. Kennedy who once said, "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country."
- Reporter: So now you're- you'res comparing yourself to a fallen hero of this country?
- Oliver Queen: Well, why not? He saw the hero in all of us. I'm not dwelling on revenge for past atrocities or looking ahead to what I can gain from a few tax breaks, drilling oil wells in the ocean, putting up razor wire fences to keep out immigrants who only want what our grandparents wanted. In this world of armchair bloggers, we've created a generation or critics instead of leaders. I'm actually doing something, right here, right now. For the city. For my country. And I'm not doing it alone. You're damn right I'm a hero.
Hal was passing the time waiting for Ollie by letting Bijou play with her ball. She’d been tugging at his jacket and nudging at his hand since they’d left his apartment to make the short walk to the park. She’d wanted it before they even left the building, but Hal knew all she’d want to do is chase it back and forth. That really wasn’t the easiest thing while walking down a sidewalk with other people.
Upon hearing his name, he looked up and raised a hand at the approaching archer in greeting. “How’s it going, Ollie?”
Turning his attention away from his friend for just a second, he called, “Bijou, come here.” The dog had been stretched out in the shade of a tree just a few feet away from him, occupying herself by gnawing on her ball to make it squeak. As soon as she heard her name, the golden retriever was on her feet and trotting over to him, ball in mouth.
“Good girl,” he praised, patting her head and taking hold of her leash.
Beau yapped, a high pitched noise not yet a bark but loud enough. The pure white puppy hopped up on his hind legs before bolting to the much bigger dog he was presented to. Oliver gave an affectionate tug to the rambunctious one’s leash. “Easy boy,” the archer laughed as he was finally in reach of the other pair.
“Pretty good, pal, pretty good,” Oliver replied. He clapped his old friend on the shoulder. “And how about you? Still flying true, buddy?”
Again, Beau strained against his leash to address the new friend. “Okay, okay, don’t be so testy,” he grinned at Hal, “this little guy is Beau. He’s obviously been dying to meet you.”
Oliver let the leash out a bit for Beau to trot forward and sniff at both the other man and Bijou. “And I take it this lovely lady is Bijou.”
“I cannot locate him,” she repeated, leaning back against the wall. “He has not been answering my transmissions and has been absent for over a week.”
She tried to tell herself that he was not intentionally avoiding her, but waking up alone after that night and his lack of presence were things that successfully drowned out any logical reasoning she’d managed. Now, she just wanted to get off the planet and out of the sector so she could clear her head.
Oliver gave the pet a last pat against the belly before straightening up again. His brows knitted together then, however not in concern for Hal. After knowing Hal well enough after so many years, such behavior was not uncommon. But more in concern for Laira being distressed. “Hey you know, he does that. Goes off a little too far, that one. But hey, he’s like a goddamn boomerang, always comes back to kick us in the back of the head,” the archer said.
“And chasing him would just make you tired, and too much work I’d say.” The joke hung in the air for a moment. There was a pause. He reached out a careful hand after, finding her fingers with his own. “He’s probably in a no service zone, Princess. Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh Oliver…” Her head shook, trying not to show as much enjoyment in his silly charm as she felt. The building was still very raw and, in typical Dinah-on-her-own style, lacked much luxury.
Opening the door to the second floor apartment, there was an obvious lack of furniture. A half assembled motorcycle was resting on stands near the kitchen. A simple sailcloth tarp beneath the parts seemed unnecessary over the cold concrete floor. The small kitchen was furnished enough with counter-tops, appliances, and a small wooden table with three chairs.
“So can I ask you something?” She inquired, still walking towards the most expensive personal item in view: a modern coffee maker.
“What have you been doing all this time? The boys say they haven’t seen much of you and Mia says- well she’s trying to be loyal to whatever it is your doing.” Mia didn’t like to keep what she knew to herself, Dinah could hear it in her voice. But whatever she knew, she was keeping quiet for Ollie.
He hung back by the door once they were in her apartment. Green eyes drifted about the space, observing. A fond smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he noticed the motorcycle taking up space practically smack dab in the middle of everything. It certainly was a conversation starter for someone who might have just met his pretty bird.
Gradually, he meandered to stand on the other side of the counter top from Dinah, his hands resting on the cool tile. He couldn’t help noting the work that still had to be done. Of course, the space was fine. Livable. It wasn’t because he was judging her conditions, but observing.
The things in the flat were hers. The flat itself was hers. But there was nothing on the walls, or floors, or even in the feel of it that screamed a nest for the bird.
“Sure. Draw back,” he replied with a smirk, his hands moving to make the motion of the bow, “and shoot.”
“Mia likes ice cream, is why,” Oliver managed a small chuckle. His lips pursed and he suddenly found the spaces between the tiles interesting. He traced the lines, mulling over an answer. “I, uh,” he began softly, “I’ve been working on myself. Thought it was time I found a way to do that without hanging out in the ashram for a couple of months…”
acearcher replied to your post: ooc; You’re all going to beat the hell out of Hal…
[-whispers- get her a bear]
((*whispers back* I don’t know it that’ll work twice, co-husband.))
[-whispers back- ahhh… co-husband, you’re kinda screwed]
“No, no duties from the Corps to attend to,” she muttered. “I want to go back home… and I cannot locate Hal.”
Oliver had taken a knee, offering his hand to Bijou who had been circling his legs. His brow quirked then. He looked up at her in confusion, “Come again?”
“You’re such a man of exquisite taste, Mr. Queen.” His beard brushed against her skin sending a shiver down her spine and raising goosebumps along her skin.
“You can count on me to be of any service to the Chef he likes.”
“Obviously, nothing, but the best,” he hummed into her shoulder, his hands gripped at her hips as he pressed into her back a bit more, “I mean, I picked a really nice bird to have tonight.”
Ollie let his hands slide away and he took a step away toward the kitchen. A playful gleam was in his eye, a familiar one. “You could help by helping me get this bird on the table, so to say.”
“Anything and everything, Princess. What do you need?”
Intensely wants to rp with your character but doesn’t know how to approach.
Breathes on your shoulder.
She snickered and set her phone down. As instructed, she jumped to her feet and trotted off to her wardrobe to change into something warmer. Where they were going— she had no clue. Ollie and his surprises…
There was something to having the heater on at full blast, top down and the Bay Area nighttime weather being as it always was. Cold breeze whipping at his hair and warm bursts of air on his cheeks. It was windy and cloudy above, but there was something in the rolling clouds that he found made for a beautiful sight.
Jerking the wheel in two sharp movements, he pulled into the space right before the front of her flat. With a grin, Oliver took his phone out and quickly hammered out a short message.
[Txt]: Your car awaits, milady.
((BUT SHE NEEDS YOU D8))
[I THOUGHT SHE WAS MAD AT ME TOO. OR DID THE BEAR FIX IT?
GET HER ANOTHER BEAR.]
[Hey guys, sorry for being sort of AWOL. I’m trying to avoid my DC blogs to keep the Man of Steel unspoiled. Not to say that I don’t trust you all, but more myself. I’d probably click on a readmore faster than Clark could eat a slice of apple pie.
Anyhow, after tonight, until I see the movie I’ll probably be a little more scarce.]