It had some time since Oliver had offered companionship to his stalkee, as she so eloquently called herself, but there had been no sign of her. He had waited to hear the knock, but when the minutes turned into hours, he figured she decided to give the opportunity a pass. He didn't know the exacts of her disappearance, but he knew it wasn't good. Reasonably, she may decide she wanted to be alone.
When the knock finally did come, he was mid-persona switch, about to start his own nightly patrols. Pausing, he looked toward the door, wondering who it could be. There were a few options, some more favorable than others. With any luck, it'd be one of two knocks he had been expecting. One from a blond and another from another future business associate. Having to scramble for a costume change, he decided to answer the door without finding his shirt. If it was the latter of his two hopefuls, it would probably be the awkward choice, but he had already kept them waiting long enough to turn back into the business man he was known as versus the masked vigilante.
Leaning against the door frame to peer outside, he saw blond hair in his immediate vision. Opening the door wider, showing more than just a portion of himself, he greeted Buffy with a charming grin, "I had given up on you." At least for the night. There were always other chance meetings, which was why he hadn't gotten too concerned when she showed. They had a chemistry of understanding that he knew wouldn't go ignored. Unless every assumption he had made about the Slayer had been wrong. Call it egotistical, but he wasn't often wrong. He made it a point not to be.