wilsooon | (no subject)

[There's always a wrench in the machinery. There's always something to go wrong. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes, like tonight, everything goes as well as Oliver could possibly hope. There's no body count - minor injuries, sure, but nothing the victims won't recover from.

And there's several large caches of weapons that will find their way into the hands of the cops within the hour, thanks to a phone call placed by one one of the thugs held at arrow-point.

It's going swimmingly, which is exactly what has Oliver on edge as he makes the roof of the warehouse, half-way to an exit -

And there's the wrench. Upwards of a dozen more armed men waiting, pouring out of the shadows like he didn't feel the air on the rooftop change when they started to move.

The first two are down before they have a chance to raise their weapons.

Lower the body count. Diggle keeps getting after him to lower the body count.

Oliver grits his teeth and ducks out of the line of fire, using the same shadows to get behind two others, stupidly close together. He looses an arrow between them, killing a third man and getting the two armed idiots to turn on each other and open fire.

He didn't kill them. They did it themselves.

Wrench half-way extracted.]

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[Cissie is in trouble; she can feel it. She's already way more fascinated with Mrs. Steele than is probably safe or even rational, and she knows a large part of it is just that she hasn't had any grandparents since she was about three or four. But there's also just something about her that tells Cissie this woman is formidable and to be taken seriously. Cissie finds herself somehow simultaneously intimidated and fascinated by her.

And by the way she and Oliver interact with each other.

All Cissie can do is observe, and offer polite smiles and trail after Oliver when they finally escape and head upstairs. She looks around them as they go, taking in everything, and feeling... incredibly out of place.]

So. How badly did I screw that up?

What? [Genuinely surprised by the question is he. Oliver stops, half-turning, holding himself in that stiff way he unconsciously adopts, a posture that says he's not quite sure how to behave while standing upright and in the open as opposed to crouched in the dark.] You were fine. I know she can be a little... intimidating, but she's just guarded. It's.

[He pauses.] It runs in the family.

[A gesture toward the end of the hall, to one of the last doors, which he opens. The 'guest room' looks like a penthouse suite at a pacific-northwestern hotel.] Is this all right? I'll... We'll... Clothing won't be an issue.

Edited 2013-01-05 01:54 (UTC)

[Intimidating. Guarded. Runs in the family. Cissie makes a little noise that's maybe an agreement, and maybe amused. The way he described his mother might actually explain quite a bit about him.

She follows him down the hall to the guest room and steps in; she's almost overwhelmed. She's never really seen a room like this in a real house before (though calling this place a house seems wrong anyway). She can't hide her staring, or how overwhelming she finds the place in that first moment. She recovers quickly, but then he mentions clothing and she realizes... she doesn't have any. She doesn't have anything, because this isn't her world and the people she would call to fix this might not even exist and--she is definitely not going to cry right now.

She takes a deep, steadying breath and a few steps away from him, to look out a window and give herself a chance to cover her near-breakdown.] Thank you. It's--incredible. Really.

[That reaction leaves him fumbling slightly, standing in the doorway, not wanting to leave her alone but not sure what else to do.] I'm. Down the hall.

[He points, indicating the right direction.] Third door on the left.

[Nope. Still standing here.] It's.

[...He's not sure where that sentence was going to go, if anywhere.]

Edited 2013-02-06 05:50 (UTC)

[Cissie nods, taking in the information and wondering exactly what she was going to do and how she was going to get home... And also wondering what would possibly drive her to go down the hall to his room. His unfinished sentence and the fact that he wasn't leaving made her turn and look at him, though.]

It's what?

It'll be all right.

[He doesn't know how he can even begin to make that the truth.]

[Cissie looks back at him and manages, somehow, not to laugh. It's nice of him to try though, so she gives him a small, grateful smile.] ...Yeah. Thanks.