Not in Kansas Anymore Oliver rolled over, vaguely aware of the cool emptiness of the bed around and beside him. He reached out, eyes still closed, feeling for the pretty thing he'd gone to bed with, but she must have gotten up and left in the middle of the night.
That was strange. Usually he was the one that did the leaving. Or the awkward, morning-after thank you and goodbyes.
He opened his eyes, patting down the sheets and blankets, shoving down a sudden panic as he looked around the plush suite. It wasn't his bed. Wasn't his room. Wasn't any room that he recognized. He wasn't even in his penthouse.
He swung out of bed, and reached for a pair of jeans that weren't where he thought they should be, on the floor beside the bed. He stalked to the bathroom and yanked a towel off the rack to wrap around his waist, looking for something that he could use as a weapon--but the thought of brandishing a toilet plunger? He'd rather take his chances with his bare hands and his...natural charm.
A sweep of the penthouse revealed that it was in fact his penthouse after all. He just wasn't in Metropolis anymore. He wasn't in Star City, either. In fact, he didn't recognize the skyline at all, at least not well enough to place where he was.
"Okay, Dorothy," he muttered aloud, as he stared out at The City. "I guess it's time to find the man behind the curtain." But there was no reason he had to go exploring in the buff, so he showered, dressed in business casual, coiffed his spiky blond head, and finally headed street-side a couple hours later to do some sightseeing.