|
  |
This fundraiser was put together on short notice, which means no expense was spared when it came to meeting with Queen quality standards. The convention hall that Queen Consolidated's CEO has chosen is spacious and tastefully appointed. The catering is top notch. The bar is open and stocked with only the best. And the floral arrangements, naturally, are elegant and costly.
Dinah's flower shop came highly recommended by a close friend of Oliver Queen, so both faith and resources were applied liberally when it came to piles of lilies and chrysanthemums. The decor is reminiscent of spring and renewal, which would seem to be just around the corner.
Having already made a tour of the various VIP areas, Oliver has done tonight's share of gladhanding. Now he's found himself a seat at a quiet bar that's tucked far to the side of the orchestra and the fine buffet. This means he can enjoy a drink with only a handful of people to share the immediate space, which can't be said for most of the rest of the party.
The young CEO is wearing only the finest, as always. A dark suit that's been tailored to accommodate his athletic frame rather than accentuate it. White shirt, black tie, and thoroughly polished shoes. A keen observer would see that he wears his finery with a shred of disdain, as if he'd rather be home relaxing in something comfortable.
Normally jobs like this take time to plan and are not cheap for the one buying the arrangements under normal circumstances. But this job? With only about a week's worth of planning. Good thing Oliver Queen is rich, otherwise he just might have to sell his car to afford the cost. Thankfully there was very little of other work lined up for her and she was able to get everything finished and delivered on time.
Having been invited to mingle once everything is all set up, the florist in question has already gotten herself a drink and found herself a place to stand. She didn't have a chance to dress up, and probably couldn't afford the kind of dress normally worn to a party like this anyhow, meaning she's very out of place, here. She has on a black shirt with the name of her shop pinned over her left breast as well as Capri pants that bears green stains from working with flowers while wearing them, her hair pulled up into a sloppy ponytail. The snobbier of Queen's guests have been side-eyeing her, making her feel self-conscious.
It does not take long for the discomforted florist to drain her glass and she makes her way to the bar, stopping right next to where the man of the hour himself is. "I'll have another scotch, neat."
Oliver's drinking short pours of vodka on the rocks, each one quickly emptied, then freshened with chipped ice and a new dose of Stolichnaya. He's on his third before he meets with any distractions, though this one doesn't seem to bother him.
He sets his drink aside and smiles, but rather than the toothy politician's grin that he usually shows, this is a tight-lipped smile from one friend to another. "You're the florist." While he might not have caught a name, Ollie never forgets a face. He keeps his eyes fixed on Dinah's. "You do beautiful work. Thank you for coming through on such short notice."
The scotch gets poured in no time and it is being partaken in just as Oliver speaks to her, it causing Dinah to hold up a finger on her other hand, asking for a moment. Seems like she really needs the drink as she's not about to put the glass down until it is empty. Doesn't take her too long, however, and soon it is set down and she is able to speak. "Thank you. And thank you for hiring me." That's right. 'Me', not 'us'. Her shop is a one person operation. Makes for many late nights but she's something of a perfectionist and is never sure as to whether or not anyone else can work to her standards.
Looking around herself, now, Dinah adds quietly, "I feel like a very small guppy surrounded by a whole slew of hungry sharks. Ugh." Something of a shiver runs down her back, starting at the base of her skull and ending at just above her tailbone. "How do you do it?"
"Practice. Boarding school manners. My mother's voice whispering in my ear." Oliver's quips are follows with a brief salute of his glass before he drains it and waves for a refill. "Liberal doses of alcohol don't hurt," he acknowledges pragmatically. "Ms. Lance, right? Thank you, as well. You didn't have to drop everything to suit my needs, but I'm glad you did."
"Ah. Right. Breeding. Your pedigree must be impressive, Mister Queen. Best of the best. Best schools, best clothes money could buy… hell, I bet Mummy and Daddy even bought friends for you when you were a kid." Okay. That was a bit more snarky than Dinah meant for it to be and she gives Ollie a half-smile, half-grimace of an apology. The gratitude he shows makes her feel doubly bad for her snippiness and she hurries to look away, glad that it's not so bright in here that he'll see her blush. "You're welcome, Mister Queen. Let me know if you ever need a rush job again."
Dinah's verbal jab isn't at all subtle and elicits a raising of Oliver's eyebrows. "Lucky for me, my parents didn't tell me which friends they'd bought and which I'd made on my own," he responds. "Would've spoiled things, I think." Despite the subject matter, his tone is light and mild.
There's a pause while his refill arrives and he attacks it vigorously. After a few seconds he meets the florist's eyes with his own unwavering gaze. "I appreciate your professional ethics and your lack of preamble. I'll let you know the next time I'm organizing an event at the eleventh hour."
Okay. So Dinah is not finding herself escorted out of the party. After a relieved sigh she returs her gaze back to the host, the man of the hour given a look of appreciation at how he rolled with that unintentional punch of hers. "That's good. That they didn't, I mean. I… that is. uhm…" Color Dinah flustered, now. Clearing her throat, the blonde looks down at her glass, trying to think of what to say. Thankfully Oliver continues with his end of the conversation, that enough to keep the flow going. "Next time I might charge you twice as much as I did this time," she teases.
Accustomed to being insulted, Oliver seems to be taking it in stride. He shrugs and slides his now-empty glass back across to the bartender, but declines another. He seems none the worse for wear despite his rate of consumption as he tugs his lapels straight and tightens what was once a comfortably loosened tie. Once he's tidied himself, he turns to properly face Dinah and make his reply. "Not purely because you know I can afford it, I hope. Though you wouldn't be the first."
Dinah likewise refuses another drink even though her own consumption has been fairly moderate when compared to others. She does have to drive back across town, after all. Rolling her eyes, all Oliver gets is her head shaken at him, her expression now falling closer to bemused. When she does finally speak again it is in a carefully modulated tone, not wanting to risk further insult, if any, which might risk Mister Queen as a repeat customer. "Well, congratulations on a successful evening, Mister Queen. I look forward to doing business with you again." And no, she won't charge him more than she did although she could probably put a nice down payment on a house somewhere if she were to do so. "Do take care of yourself."