Finnley Sparks ♕ Felicity Smoak (prattles) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2018-01-31 19:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, * terri, c: finnley sparks |
WHO: Finnley Parker (with a brief mention of Oliver Sparks) → Felicity Smoak and Oliver Queen
WHEN: January 31st, early morning → Shortly after Oliver’s return from Lian Yu
WHERE: Oliver’s Apartment → Queen Consolidated
SUMMARY: Finnley remembers the first time Felicity ever meets Oliver Queen.
WARNINGS: A mention of death? Otherwise nothing much.
With her red pen hanging from her lips, Felicity was slowly working through a laundry list of work orders that were queued in her e-mail. She was extremely gifted in computer sciences, and it was almost criminal that she was solving problems with the phrase “have you tried turning it off and back on again?” but alas. Working at Queen Consolidated wasn’t altogether a bad job. In fact, she quite liked her job and wanted to keep it. Sometimes she missed her old hacking habits, though. Sometimes it was difficult to contain herself to the life and the morals that she swore up and down that she would uphold in the face of her college years gone awry. She could be doing more than troubleshooting problems with Microsoft Outlook, but there were at least sometimes challenging problems that cropped up to be dealt with. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t initially hear anyone enter the small office where she worked. Someone cleared their throat and a deep, smooth voice queried, “Felicity...Smoak?” Her name had probably never sounded so good coming from anyone else. She turned quickly in her chair, but paused, remembering the pen in her mouth and to remove it before she made a fool of herself. He was...the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Familiar somehow, as though she’d seen him before. “Hi. I’m Oliver Queen.” And he was her boss. Her spectacularly handsome boss. Well, kind of. “Of course! I know who you are. You’re Mr. Queen.” Felicity tried not to sound overly excited about his presence in her cubicle, and wondered if she was bordering the right mix of professionalism and excitement or if she was dipping into dangerous “fan-girling” territory by just a hair. “No,” he drew out the word to exaggerate, though he didn’t sound in the least angry, “Mr. Queen was my father.” “Right, but he’s dead,” Felicity stated before she could think about the consequences of such a plainly stated, insensitive fact. She attempted to backpedal, “I mean, he drowned. But you didn’t. Which means that you could come down to the IT Department and listen to me babble…” She tapped her pen nervously against her desk, breathing in to steady her nerves even as Oliver Queen smiled at her as though he were amused about her inability to hold a conversation without some sense of social awkwardness, “Which will end in 3...2...1…” “I’m having some trouble with my computer and they told me that you were the person to come and see,” he explained, lifting a black-cased laptop and placing it on the edge of her desk, “I was at my coffee shop surfing the web and I spilt a latte on it.” She could hear the lie from a mile away, especially because it wasn’t a very good one, but she was intrigued. Felicity stared at the laptop, and then glanced back up at him, “Really?” “Yeah.” “‘Cause these look like bullet holes,” she pointed out, literally poking some of the distinctly caved in marks. “My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood,” Oliver claimed. His words were smooth, but Felicity tipped her head nearly to her shoulder as she looked up at him and pressed her lips together to prevent herself from calling out the falsehood. He smiled. It was disarming, which was a bit concerning, but Felicity didn’t interrupt him, “If there is anything you can salvage from it, I would really appreciate it.” She only had a few moments to consider this. It was probably something that she shouldn’t do, and yet there might be a loophole in there since Oliver Queen was asking this of her...directly. Walter might be running the company currently, but it was still Queen Consolidated. He wouldn’t ask her to do anything illegal, right? She hesitated, and then in the next moment, she made a potentially stupid decision. She decided to trust Oliver Queen. She merely hummed her consent to the job that he had tasked her with, but she would salvage as much as she could from the bullet-ridden hard drive. Maybe this was her something different...her something challenging. ~~ Finnley frowned, waking from her dream just long enough to snuggle herself closer into Oliver’s arms, her voice cracking from sleep, “Oliver?” “Hm?” she was sure he was mostly asleep, but then, she was too. “Don’t go into bad coffee shops,” she murmured, her cheek pressed to his chest. He muttered something that might have been an agreement, an arm tightening around her, and the moment she let her eyes flutter closed, she fell back into dreams. |