i was out on the town

[restitute]

WHO: Oliver Queen AND YOU!!!
WHERE: Heropa! From #14 to the beach to rooftops at midnight!
WHEN: November 15-19
WHAT: Oliver's new in town! Which means it's time to see just what Heropa has to offer.
WARNINGS: lbh he'll probably shoot at someone with an arrow during this log. Other than that, not anticipating too much

A. November 15 - #14 Heropa
[If there's one thing Oliver has never actually experienced, it's shared living. At least, shared living that wasn't a dirt floor in the shell of a plane or the floor of some blackmailed family in Hong Kong. Free shared living, where he has his own room and his own space but still has to share a kitchen, living room, and bathroom is... different.

And he's not entirely sure he likes it.

Either way, he's laid claim to the couch this afternoon by way of setting his jacket down on the space next to him and spreading the unread portion of his newspaper (as well as various pages of scribbled on paper) all over the coffee table. And floor. And maybe a bit on the nearest chair, too.

Sorry, housemates, but this space is now his.]

B. November 16-18 - Around Heropa (day)
[The few days after his arrival can find Oliver making his way around the city, taking in the sights, smiling politely at the few people who recognize him as someone new and just generally playing tourist.

The first day, he goes from car lot to car lot, talking about cars and bikes and showing a lot of interest in the fact that some of them actually fly. The second day he's hitting up everything from malt shops to banks to tourist points like the beach and boardwalk and seemingly taking pictures of the "interesting architecture" around town. The third day and he takes a risk and breaks his routine, stopping by a few... well. Interesting places. Namely hunting stores.

What can he say? He has a taste for archery.]

*C. November 18&19 - Around Heropa (night)
[The night of November 18th is the night a new member joins the watchful eyes of the worst parts of Heropa. It's the night when another archer takes to the roofs, this one clad head to toe in dark green, a hood shadowing his face and paint darkening his eyes and cheekbones.

He's still getting his footing in this new environment, and he doesn't know the lowlifes of this world just yet, so his first nights on patrol are spent rounding up muggers and perverts in bars. In shooting down an arrow to spark and disorient before jumping in and finishing in the job, leaving small time lowlife after small time lowlife tied up on the street or pinned to the wall, tied to a telephone pole, etc etc.

If you're good enough to sneak up on him, you can find him on a rooftop, doing his best to blend into the shadows. Or if you're unlucky enough to be a victim of a mugging, this slightly pissed off and semi-brutal vigilante can come to your rescue!

Either way, yes. He is basically wearing eye shadow.]



*note: one of Oliver's powers is an identity disguise, meaning as long as he has his eyes/cheekbones even partially covered, it's almost entirely impossible to recognize him out of costume

Comments

AT NIGHT OBVIOUSLY c'mon now lmk if this works

[khajidont]

[Jaime may not necessarily need to patrol the city, but he's certainly made a habit out of it if not only for the simple fact that he enjoys it. He likes flying and he likes the way the city looks at night. Still, he's bound to run into a crime or two as he dips into the more crime-ridden neighborhoods, and once he sees a mugging go down, he changes his trajectory; all Ollie is likely to see is a blur of blue suddenly obstructing his line of sight. Jaime's all that Ollie isn't, which is to say, he's a bright blue eyesore with a voice that, even behind the technological ring to it, is relatively young and chipper.

Jaime holds one hand out and says, not unkindly,] I'd give back the lady's purse.

[It works sometimes. It doesn't work today because the next thing he knows, the mugger's holding a knife.] Aw, really? Dude, I'm in armour, do you really think that's gonna -- [and bam, one clean smack and the mugger's down for the count] -- theeeere we go.

[While he's giving the woman back her purse, the Scarab mutters that there's someone nearby, and when the Scarab guides his vision, he sees a few notable indicators: a green hood, and a bow and arrow. There are only so many people who fit that description.]

Green Arrow...?

[restitute]

[It's one thing hearing about other vigilantes being in the city, it's a whole other thing actually seeing someone else running around in a costume fighting crime. And while... it isn't Oliver's first run-in with a mask he didn't know, it's his first time seeing someone flying in.

He'd had his bow up, arrow notched and string pulled taut, eyes narrowed at the man running up behind the woman he'd named his target. He'd been tracing the movement, still and quiet and letting out a quiet breath of air to get the best shot possible when that bright blue streak had gone sailing on by.

And while Oliver was extremely tempted to just let the arrow fly and see what happened, instead he wrenched his bow the other way, hissed through his teeth, and watched the man - kid? - do his thing.

For a moment, watching the mugger pull a knife and the... bug kid... do his thing, he's reminded of Roy. Reminded of all the anger and strength in him, the way he's so determined to run headfirst into situations beyond his control because he thinks he can't be touched anymore. For a moment, Oliver feels something akin to worry tug at his chest. Feels that same frustration Harper always ignites in him.

And then, the strange flying blue bug marks him - technology, maybe the same one that allowed him to fly - and the little spark of unjustified annoyance becomes extremely justified. Still, no point in staying hidden.

He stands from his vantage point on the fire escape, vaulting over the edge and dropping, catching himself on one level to slow his fall before hitting the ground, slinging his bow over his shoulder and narrowing his eyes at Mostly Blue Bug Boy from under his hood before responding in his wonderfully modulated voice;]

You're not the first one to try and call me that. [It's a cautious prompt, a way to fish and figure out just who this kid is that he even tangentially got his identity right. And boy, he doesn't sound all too happy about it.]

[khajidont]

[Normally when someone is trying to recognize someone else, they search their eyes. Jaime is doing nothing of the kind. Instead, as Ollie may notice, Jaime's staring at his chin. He may not have met Green Arrow for very long, and they may have been in the process of being pursued by scary robot-weapon-things at the time, but Jaime still recognized his - admittedly silly looking - facial hair.

Disappointingly, he only sees stubble which is, in addition to marking this Green Arrow as different, much less interesting.]

Well... you're missing the beard. [His wings retract back into his suit with a quiet click. It could be a completely different person, Jaime thinks, but knowing how frequently people from his general universe arrive? It's probably an alternate universe thing. Or a timeline thing. Again.] So if you don't call yourself Green Arrow, what do you call yourself?

b

[bioshift]

[ Do u like aliens, Ollie. Cause this one green and slinking around the corners of a building looking mighty suspicious. Looking over her shoulder and biting her lip every time she gets too close to the main strip. He'll probably see glances of her at least three times, each one looking a little more frustrated, a little more on edge.

Care to snoop, Greeny-In-A-Suit? ]

[restitute]

[.......... The first time he saw her, he thought it was just a trick of the light. A reflection of something nearby, cast on her skin. The second time, just a few minutes later, and he's realizing that... isn't a reflection. There's no way that's anything other than her actual skin color.

And she's sneaking around. A lot like a kid getting herself into some sort of trouble.

So, weirdly green or not, Oliver's walking over after a minute, moving behind M'gann in a way that will hopefully give her a heart attack.]

If it's about something you want - [Listen to that exasperation, M'gann. Hidden not all too well behind a tense smile.] - I wouldn't recommend stealing it.

[bioshift]

[ WOWOWOW HOW RUDE CAN YOU GET DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO SHE IS No clearly you do not which is probably why she's tensing suddenly and ... not looking as guilty as she probably could. Actually, she looks a little bit confused. Also thrown, because this is a familiar face, isn't it? It's familiar, but not. Why can't she put her finger on it?

Oh hang on, being accused of theft here. ]

I'm not stealing anything. I'm looking for my ... kid brother.

B.

[you_tried]

[ It's not like Booster goes out on patrol all that often. But sometimes a guy needs a snack in the wee hours of the night (or, more accurately, sometimes Ted needs a snack in the wee hours of the night and Booster is a good superhousewife) and sometimes that means flying halfway across town because honestly, why wouldn't you fly if you could, come on, subtlety is way overrated.

So anyway, Booster's floating above the rooftops with a box of midnight donuts when he spies a guy who on first glance looks like a total creep but then on second glance looks like a recognizable only-sometimes-creep and, whoa, wait, for real? ]

Arrows... green... [ A+ detective work, Booster. ]

Heyyy, Green Arrow!

[ Okay, so he doesn't really know the guy all that well, but a familiar face is a familiar face... right? Sure hope he's not interrupting anything important. ]

[restitute]

[You know, Oliver was just getting into his nightly groove. It's not as easy here, with the bow that's not quite like the one he has back home, with the uniform that's just different enough to be frustrating, and the lack of babbling in his ear and the knowledge that if worse came to worse he couldn't count on Sara, Dig, and Roy to have his back... its harder to get his head in the game.

But here he is, an hour into patrol and he's feeling pretty good on his rooftop. He's melded into the shadows, become one with the night. He's stalking the scum of the earth and ready to maybe get his hands a little dirty. He is vengeance. He is shadow. He is...

........... getting really sick and tired of all these goddamn flying brightly colored people.

You know. He's so tired of them that he doesn't even lower his bow from where he had it aimed at the first noise from above him. ... Actually, it's almost like he's pulling the string a little further, going from threatening to being ready to- oh.

Oh.

Okay, so in his defense, Booster's not only brightly colored but he's loud and Oliver is trying to work and it's not like he was firing a real arrow at him, just a flashbang arrow!

Just... so... he can try and zip line to another building and resume his quiet stalking free of bright flying people who apparently really want to rename him.]

[you_tried]

[ The good news is that Booster gets a forcefield up in time to avoid a flashbang to his beautiful face. The bad news is the forcefield doesn't do much to alleviate the flash or the bang. He sees spots in his vision, and his ears are ringing, and wow, talk about rude.

Obviously he doesn't want to be bothered. Obviously he's armed and crabby. A smart man might leave the guy alone after that.

Booster follows him. ]

Nice to see you too, jerk!

c.

[motherflocker]

[ Oswald Chesterfiled Cobblepot, the third was a rather short, rotund man. That much was obvious, from the short, awkward gait. It was easy to see why he was called the Penguin -- if someone was to recognize him by that name. The odd thing, however, was that he was walking through the very, very shady part of town.

With a very, very nice suit on. In fact, that might have even been a bowtie he was wearing, as he walked the streets, swinging a fine looking umbrella on his arm. Like there wasn't a care in the world, like he enjoyed what he was doing. Which was, in fact, walking down the streets, taking a look at the "competition".

The problem was that he looked entirely out of place, especially when he started waving around money at one of the bars, buying a round for some unsavory patrons, to whom he'd just left, and was now moving onto the next bar. He may have even been humming a soft jazz tune to himself. Business was good for the Penguin, after all. ]

[restitute]

[Oliver knows money. He's been around it his entire life. He knows suits, knows how to look and see the stitching, the buttons, the design of cuffs and tie clips, if its a bowtie is it silk, the shine of the undershirt- he knows it all.

He also knows that when people with money prance around a bad neighborhood like they own it? They often do.

So, he's been following Oswald for at least one little bar adventure now, both curious about the stout man's movement patterns as well as making sure no one takes advantage of the money being flaunted.

But Oliver isn't a patient person.

He drops into an alleyway just in time for Oswald to pass and calls out in a deep and modulated voice-] Not exactly a four star establishment.

a

[aviate]

[The first thing Hal had done was bolt. This wasn't his Earth and he was going to get out of here and figure things out. However it turned out this also wasn't his universe which he'd realised half way across the universe when he couldn't get in contact with the Guardians. No Oa, no Corps. This sector was different too with none of the inhabited planets that should of been around existing.

He'd returned to Earth once he realised he didn't have a lot of options. He'd checked in with the authorities and finally gotten an explanation, brushed off their demands that he not leave the borders without permission, then flew off to his apartment.

Which means he just phases through the roof and into the living room, his power battery tucked under one arm and in one moment to the next his Green Lantern uniform is replaced with his casual clothes. It's only then he notices that this isn't a single apartment and he freezes.]

...how much of that did you see?

[restitute]

[It's quiet. Nice and quiet and solitary and Oliver's actually enjoying it. If this is how adults can live together he could definitely get behind it. Already a day in and he hadn't seen more than a quick glimpse of one other housemate.]

... Interesting. [He murmurs to himself before taking a noisy sip of his coffee, humming contentedly before putting it down with a noisy click - lack of coasters and everything, how savage - and flipping the page of the paper he's kinda reading.

Honestly, he's just trying to figure out the state of the world he's suddenly found himself in. And research is definitely a good way of keeping his mind off of the state his world was in when he left it.

And just when he'd picked up his mug again to read more about how Suzie had won the spelling bee and Detective Richards still had nothing to say about the apparent Halloween incident the weirdest thing happens.

A man just... drops through the ceiling, all green and glowing and masked and carrying some weird green... lantern under his arm. And just when Oliver was about to react to that the glowing uniform is gone and the man's seemingly realizing he didn't drop down into his room and really, all Oliver can do is take a sip of his coffee as he tries to comprehend the fact that really just happened.

... Give him a second, Hal. This is the perfect mixture of cream and sugar and life-giving acidy caffeine.]

Did you mean the glowing or the phasing through the floor? [Don't mind the slightly tense edge to his voice, Hal. WEIRD POWER THINGS DON'T HAPPEN IN HIS WORLD YET.]

b, because this needs to happen.

[immigrantpunk]

[It's late afternoon, after work, and Jayden is hanging outside the YA publishing company where he works. He's way more part time than he used to be before school and sports took over, but he still puts in a few hours each week to keep some cash flowing in. His department, Russian translations, is kind of the joke of the company, because in the current political climate there aren't a lot of book titles going in and out of Russia. He's made friends with several of his co-workers who are (older) Russian expats, and they are currently smoking and chatting in Russian. Jayden usually tries to make it a point not to speak anything but English in public, but hey, strength in numbers.

Snippets of conversation can be overheard: Ever since Orlando and Bulgaria, I'm waiting for them to come after us again.

Another "simple questioning," I'm sure. If I had wanted to grow eyes in the back of my head, I would have stayed in Mother Russia.

Laughter.

You'd think they'd know the difference between spies and terrorists. That's Jayden, speaking over the cigarette in his mouth. He removes it, exhales smoke. If it's big and flashy, why think Russian spies did it? That's the opposite of espionage.

An older burly man chuckles and says, Kid, America thinks Russian spies do everything. The earth could fall into the sun and it would be the Soviets who did it.

Amid more laughter, the group disperses, most of them heading back inside. Jayden snuffs out his cigarette, slings a backpack over his shoulder, and bids the group goodbye. He heads up the sidewalk, toward the bus stop, and right past Oliver.]

oh it definitely needed to happen

[restitute]

[If there's one thing Oliver knew even before the island matured him, hardened him, its that news is biased. Anything learned from the paper or internet or even the news broadcasts has most likely been filtered by at least three different higher ups, has been touched by the personal views of the person writing or speaking about it. So while Oliver has managed to do some research on the current state of the world, he's been taking everything he reads with a grain of salt.

After all, when anyone is attacked at home, they tend to lash out, to just breed paranoia at both an impressive and an alarming rate.

So when Oliver passes by a group of people speaking Russian, he just has to stop and pull out his communicator, has to lean casually against the wall and search the web as he listens in, as he hears things about... Orlando, Bulgaria - places he read about, events he'd heard tell of. And, well, he can't help but let out a laugh under his breath at the mention of a paranoia even his world, at a distance from the Cold War, could still be accused of.

He watches the group disperse, watches as the kid who was with them puts out his cigarette and makes to leave and, well, there's a few things he could say to get his attention, to ask the questions he really wants to ask. But he eventually, as Jayden's just a few feet past him, goes with a simple-]

With what's been on the news lately, I was starting to think even speaking Russian would get me arrested. [His Russian is... almost flawless, really. Spoken fast and easily with an accent that only barely hints at American.]

c. (also, let me know if this needs changing cause it's too vague/open or something)

[notafishwhisperer]

[ Arthur wasn't used to the nighttime patrols, but he needed to get out and see things for himself, to get used to the city and its rhythms. He was far more used to issues of a more global nature, events that could strike at any time of the day, than the basic petty crime of city streets. He was also not very used to hiding himself unless absolutely necessary; he understood the value of tactics and strategy, but he was also aware that it was pretty hard to hurt him.

He'd already left a couple of would-be thieves dazed and confused in a pile outside of the store they were trying to break into. Maybe their reports of a guy in golden scale armor and using a trident would get around.

Arthur did feel like he had eyes watching him, but that wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Whether on the surface or Atlantis, he was a curiosity.

Hopefully no one took him for a bad guy. ]

its perfect! c:

[restitute]

[..... Okay. Oliver's run into some pretty weird people both since starting up patrols in Heropa and back home but he's pretty sure this guy takes the cake. If just because he's carrying a trident.

After all, Oliver used to run a nightclub, has his base of operations under said nightclub. He's used to things being bright and skintight and vaguely... shiny. Glinting? You know what, he's not afraid to admit that he doesn't even know what this guy's shirt's supposed to be made of.

But- he's also fighting. Fighting and leaving some lowlifes in a pile before moving on, just walking off to wherever it is people with scales and tridents go at night. And that is interesting enough to have the Arrow down on street level, stepping out of an alley just behind Arthur, bow in hand but not drawn and aimed.]

Nice spear. [Some day, some day Oliver will come up with threatening openers that don't involve the words 'failed' and 'city'.

Today is not that day.]

B (Shall we assume hunting stores includes the REI where Artemis works?)

[real_archer]

[It's a slow day at REI for Artemis. Archery season on deer is just wrapping up (though gun season will continue till January) and most people who wanted to hunt with bows and arrows have already purchased their supplies. Currently, she's slouched over the archery counter in the manner of all bored teenagers with a job and playing on her communicator. She barely looks up at the man who approaches.]

Demonstrations are at three and five or by appointment can I help you.

[Clearly the only right answer to this not-actually-a-question would be "no". Demonstrations are okay--they give her a chance to practice, if nothing else--but target shooting is boring as hell and she could burn through the practice range at REI with her eyes closed and in her sleep. At least she gets to play with some different equipment here, but it's nothing like the vast selection of trick arrows she gets to use back home when she's training with Arrow.]

[restitute]

[The secret about Oliver Queen (well, he thinks its a secret, the rest of the world just pats him on the back and says okay buddy whatever you say) is that he actually has an incredible fondness for teenagers. Maybe it comes from a desire to keep kids from pulling the stupid stunts he did in his youth, or maybe its because he saw the tail end of his sister going on a spiraling illegal substance decline.

Or maybe its because he's been dealing so much with Roy Harper lately.

Either way, the girl slumped over the counter and obviously caring so much about her job has Oliver raising his eyebrows and biting back an amused grin. Because really. Teenagers.]

Yes, actually. [See, the problem with not-really-a-questions is that the offer is still thrown out there, even if it is sarcastically. And Oliver will definitely be the dick that calls her on it.] Though, not with a demonstration. I'm- [Does he go with eccentric pastime? Hunting enthusiast? Athlete? Or does he just not say anything at all?] ... looking for a bow.

C

[selfequipped]

Nice shot.

[The remark comes from behind the Arrow.

Kate hasn't done a lot of patrolling in Heropa lately. The truth is that the city is inundated with heroes, which tells her that her energies are likely better spent elsewhere. Visits to Loki, visits to other city, have been a lot easier, and she's made a habit of it. The longer she's here, the more she can put her patrolling efforts to good use. It's been a slow change for her, but given the nature of Heropa, again, being overrun by heroes, her involvement is less necessary.

But with Billy gone, with her needing some downtime, she's been sticking close to home. Some part of her wants to make sure she's close by in the event that he turns up, and she also doesn't want to be caught off-guard if anything changes. If she and Matt are forced to close up shop because they're unsettled heroes—if she's forced to go into hiding—she wants to be close to her things so she can act quickly. Kate's suspicious about what comes next, and she knows that she hadn't made a good showing of things by teleporting to Bulgaria. (Not that she cares. She stands by her decision.)

At least tonight, sticking close to home has paid off. She glances down over the edge of the building toward where his arrow landed. It reassures her that he didn't shoot to kill. The last thing she wants is to finally run into another archer only for him to turn up the knob for brutality. That would totally suck.

For her part, Kate is dressed in her usual purple motorcycle uniform, sans the holes that are present in some forms of it. She has an obviously visible recurve bow in her hand (standard issue, clearly bought for what money she could manage at a sporting goods store), as well as a quiver full of arrows on her back. Kate is definitely an archer, and as such, it shouldn't be surprising that she's on a rooftop. This is a chance meeting, but it's where archers work best. Hell, she's even done the "pin the asshole guy against a building until he's found" thing before. It works. It's handy. And it gets the job done quickly.

Which means time for chit chat, right? That's what she tells herself. She smiles as she presses on, only a couple of beats later,] Though I have to ask. Are you named Robin, or are you just very, very serious about your homage to him? Because I have to say, I'm stunned that me and my friends haven't tried that one yet. [Namely Clint, whose first introduction to her was via the "Robin Hood Shot" that she hadn't thought he could make. Oh, but she's learned, in more ways than one. (She can make it, too, now.)]

[restitute]

[It's a good thing that the introduction Oliver was given to this town, this world, included the fact that there would be other heroes patrolling the streets. It's all that's saved a few people from getting an arrow embedded in their shoulder so far. But that doesn't mean he's not still jumpy, that having someone sneak up on him doesn't have his pulse skipping and his teeth gritting as he turns around, an arrow notched and drawn before he even finishes turning. Just the glint of metal held steady and trained at the young woman standing behind him.

The young archer standing behind him.

It takes the entire time Kate talks for Oliver to lower his bow, for him to relax his aim and eventually tuck the arrow back in his quiver and hook his bow over a shoulder before he just peers curiously at the girl in front of him. He can tell, just by her equipment, that she either knows what she's doing or did some very thorough research.]

I'm not Robin Hood. [His voice is modulated, deep and with just the slightest unnatural edge to it. But, in retrospect, that was a pretty childish response to growl out.] The hood was a friend's.

B

[shuckit]

[ okay it's probably sort of weird to see a 16 year old hanging out in a hunting store, considering he isn't old enough to be legally allowed to buy a lot of this stuff, but thomas is used to a pretty specific kind of life from being in the Glade. that, and, maybe he's practicing on the 'suggestion' part of telepathy. at some point, he might be seen putting one of the larger looking hunting knives on the counter and holding out an ID that pretty clearly says '16'. just ignore the part where he tilts his head to the side some, pauses for a quiet few seconds, and gets the transaction okayed anyway. brain powers are the best.

he, at least, looks relatively normal, given he has a zip up hoodie covering the fact that he's got his stupid looking leather Runner's vest still strapped to his chest (it's a security thing, ok, like a blankie), but the ragged cloth and leather wraps over his hands are still visible. you can never really take all the Mad Max chic out of thomas, honestly. eventually, he makes it around to where oliver is, looking over the various things in the store, sometimes picking them up and turning them over in his hands, before he puts them back up. the archery stuff, and the guy who seems like he knows what the stuff in that section does, catches his eye, and after peering curiously for a few minutes, he pipes up. ]

Are you any good with that stuff?

[restitute]

[Weird, but not that weird. Oliver's seen and done a lot of things in his life, each more stupid and out of place than the last, so seeing a teenager definitely just a little too young trying to weasel his way into weapons he had no business in wielding yet- it's not too strange, really.

Either that, or Oliver's just become far too used to wrenching guns out of the hands of kids in the Glades.

What is weird is the way the clerk pauses at the sight of this kid's ID, going quiet for a second before okaying the transaction they'd been scoffing at. It doesn't raise any immediate red flags, but it does have Oliver keeping an eye on this strange kid a little more intently than he was before.

He's testing a recurve bow when Thomas approaches him, pulling the string back with a steady arm, elbow held flat and steady and eyes gazing down the line of an imaginary arrow.]

Moderately. [He lets out a breath, bringing the string back gently before absently plucking at it, turning to the strange teen with a small smile on his face. The same kind he would give to media hounds back home.] It was a hobby back in school. Why?

B is for Bank

[chiroptophobic]

[ Bruce is doing well at Heropa's First National Bank. That is, in the few months that he's been here he's made himself indispensable, built up a variety of lending portfolios that are making steady returns, played the stockmarket. He's making good money, and he can generally pick out an imPort at first glance, so he waves his colleagues off and approaches Oliver in the foyer of the bank himself. ]

Welcome to the First National Bank. I'm Mr. Wayne--and you're new.

[ He offers his right hand, the sleeve shortening just enough to show the edge of his own tattoo. ]


[OOC: lmk if this is alright! ]

[restitute]

[After the last six years of his life, Oliver's no stranger to living without money. He's gone from survival in a wild, uninhabited place to having to take care of everything from cooking to his own laundry in a poor neighborhood of Hong Kong. So here, in Heropa, with an allowance and the promise of a steady paycheck from a job he didn't know how to do- he could work with that.

His time as CEO has taught Oliver that he's... really not the best at rebuilding wealth.

Which is why he's walking around the entrance of the bank looking both frustrated and a little lost. So Bruce singling him up and walking up to offer help is both welcome and a little defeating. If just because now, Oliver can't make an unnoticed escape.]

Oliver. [He says in response, offering his hand in return, his eyes flickering down to the faint lettering on Bruce's wrist the only outward sign that he noticed.] It's that obvious?