Who? Oliver Queen and Chloe Sullivan What? Talking and stuff. Where? Watchtower When? Set early tomorrow morning. Rating? Low, probably. Status: Closed/in progress
He wasn't even sure what time it was when he made his way into Watchtower's elevator the next morning. He felt tired and a little overwhelmed, and definitely confused. He wasn't sure what to make of what had happened with Tess the previous night. He wasn't sure whether she really wanted to seduce him, or if, like he suspected, she just wanted to get some actual sleep. Apparently she'd been having nightmares about being attacked by a werewolf, which he understood. He was still having nightmares about her being attacked, about Chloe dying, about Clark being gone. And now Lois was beyond pissed at him, so in his dreams now, she wasn't speaking to him.
Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his face. He was glad it was Saturday, that he at least didn't have to go in to Queen Industries. His plan was to check in with Chloe, because he assumed she was probably already there and working, and then going to crash in his own bed for a few hours. He wasn't sure how long it would take the team to get Loki free from the carnival, or when they were planning to try and go back in, but he wanted to be rested in case he got called in as backup. He just hoped that wouldn't be the case.
He pulled his phone from his pocket as he waited for the elevator to ascend to the top floor, frowning a little when he realized he'd had it on silent, and that he had missed messages. He winced as he read through them. Most of them were from Chloe, and by the frequency and words, he knew she had been worried. He also had a missed call and a voicemail.
Pressing the phone to his ear, he drew in a breath and listened.
"Not to sound like the psycho stalker ex-girlfriend — which, I'm not since we never dated… I— just call me when you get this?"
Oliver rubbed the back of his neck as he heard the worry in Chloe's tone, sighing softly. Crap.