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“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, ”

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“He’s here.” finally.

“Sorry I’m late.” Felicity stood aside, letting Oliver’s inbred charm fix the situation. She knew of no one (apart from her and Diggle) who didn’t bow in the presence of Oliver’s charm. Apparently, charm didn’t work on fuming business women, who already hate Oliver.

“This party is to attract investors for your failing company, being fashionably late might to well for the club circuit but it doesn’t inspire confidence on Wall Street. Is that blood on your face?” gulp. Battle stations, cover Oliver’s ass, I repeat cover Oliver’s ass.

“Don’t worry, it not his blood,” why was she even allowed out in public? “Well of course it’s his blood, why would he have someone else’s blood on his face?” had she been born without a filter for the word vomit, or was it practise? “Who taught you to shave, Mister?” I’m touching his face, I’M TOUCHING HIS FACE! OK we are prepared for this, we practised, remember? We have desensitized our self to Queen-patented charm. We stare at him half naked most nights for goodness sake. We should not freeze every time we touch is skin.

“But that was months ago, ” crows the small voice inside Felicity “we have to start from scratch since he decided to run off back to the island. You’re immunity has broken down. You are once again susceptible. ” Felicity was no a huge fan of swearing but this situation certainly would cover it.

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“What kept you? Was it that masked blonde who carries the giant staff to be the source of those attackers?” you are not jealous, you are not jealous, you are not... ok you’re jealous. But only a little bit. Oliver has yet another masked vigilante who likes him. He has yet another Sexy female killer, out to either kill him or protect him. Or go crazy, and do both, then threaten me with a crossbow to find her mobster father. Oliver sure could pick the crazy ones.

“This time it was guns,” Felicity baulked.

“Guns?” Was he trying to give her a heart attack?

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Once again, Oliver had gravitated towards Laurel within minutes of showing up. He didn’t even seem aware that he did it. If Felicity had dared ask why he did this, Oliver would have denied it wholeheartedly, before asking her why she cared, or had even noticed.

That was not a question Felicity was willing to answer.

Felicity watched as within seconds of approaching Laurel, Oliver had her smiling, relaxing in his presence. Not that she didn’t understand basking in Oliver Queen’s presence. It was one of her favourite things to do, preferable shirtless. Him shirtless, not her. “Damn, now if babbling internally, ”

Felicity tried not to think of last week, when Oliver had first ran into the newest vigilante in Starling City. She tried not to think that the only reason she was now in their lives was because Oliver had decided to check up on Laurel. Again. He had insisted that he had only gone to see if she had changed her mind about hunting him down. Neither Felicity nor Diggle had believed him.

Then he had run off to save Laurel from that creepy doll-maker. Felicity flashed her eyes to the alcove where Oliver and Laurel were standing, him smiling at her (his old smile, the one for public events) and her unawaredly inching closer to him. Now that she thought about it, Oliver wasn’t the only common factor in those situations. She started towards the pair.

“Em, excuse me Oliver, may I talk to you for a second it’s urgent?” Laurel stared unabashedly at Felicity. Felicity tried her very best not to smile to widely when Oliver answered:

“Yeah” she turned to Laurel.

“You can have him back in a minute” maybe” Felicity added internally.

Laurel stared at her disbelievingly her eyes flashed to Oliver, who was he going to pick?

“Excuse us” she was really trying not to grin as Laurel stalked off.

“I just realised something. What if our masked friend, that keeps showing up everywhere you go, you know her?”

“What about her?”

“What if we’ve been going about this the wrong way. We thought she was obsessed with you, I mean she showed up in the DA’s office when you where there and in the chemical plant the doll maker was holed up in. But who else was at both those places. What if our masked friend isn’t following you?”

“She’s following Laurel.”

Felicity tried, she really did. She tried her very hardest, not to let her heart break at the way Oliver was looking at Laurel.