Blackout, ftw? :Dhated_queenFebruary 25 2012, 17:42:31 UTC
He'd barely managed to take his seat before the train slowed to a stop, the lights on board going dark. Rolling blackouts had been going on for weeks. Each time was inconvenient and annoying and he sighed, resting his head back against the seat and letting his eyes drift closed. Maybe he could catch a few minutes of sleep.
Pshh. Hell yeah. ftfwm, even! :DwatchtowerchloeFebruary 26 2012, 00:38:55 UTC
If asked for a list of people she never expected to see on one of these, Oliver Queen would definitely be at the top. He didn't appear to have seen her, which wasn't exactly surprising, given how crowded the train was at this hour, but she was still somewhat amused at his ability to miss the forest for the trees. Half a minute later, they were stopped and the lights had gone out. By now, Chloe was mostly used to the blackouts, and was fully intending on amusing herself with her phone - she couldn't go anywhere, but she could still take care of some things.
At least, that was her intention until she noticed him close his eyes. "Please tell me you're not that oblivious," she drawled after shifting a few seats over and coming to rest in the one next to him. "Mr. Queen, I realize you must live a very busy life, but do you really think this is the best time and place for a nap?
Oliver opened one eye and glanced at her sideways, then opened his other and raised his eyebrows. "I'm not sure oblivious is an adjective I'd use to describe myself, no." He smirked a little, giving her the once over, twice.
"And considering we might be here for awhile, napping doesn't sound too bad."
The emergency lighting being as minimal as it was, Chloe couldn't see him as clearly as she liked, but she was close enough to get the gist of his facial movements and arch an eyebrow of her own. "I'm starting to think oblivious is an extremely accurate adjective to describe you. Insouciant is another good one."
She scoffed, crossing a leg over the other and settling back in the seat, looking away from him and back to her phone. "Unless you care that little about keeping your personal effects, such as your wallet, I recommend finding another way to pass the time. I can think of several worthy charities if you're just looking for ways to expend more of that disposable income."
A short bark of laughter escaped him at her words and he shook his head, smirk tugging his lips upwards even more. "You really don't pull any punches, do you, Ms. Sullivan?"
He turned his body ever-so-slightly so he was facing her. "For the record, I don't carry cash or credit on me as a general rule. That's the beauty of ATMs on nearly every street corner." He shrugged a little. "But it is good to know more about how you see me."
She had to bite her lip to keep in the smile her traitorous mouth was trying to form. If it were any brighter on the train, he might be able to make it out or spot the mixture of pride, exasperation, and humor in her eyes. "It's Chloe and no, not usually. I'd blame it on my job and say it's a requirement, but I've always sort of been this way."
"And that's good to know," she admitted. Legs crossed toward him as they were, Chloe was already somewhat facing him. She did, however, turn her head toward him when he moved. "For the record, I'm still trying to work out how I see you. So far, it's changed at least half a dozen times. If you're going for enigmatic, not bad."
"I suppose that's understandable," he said, nodding a bit and pursing his lips as he tried to see her better in the dark. "What brings you to Metropolis, Chloe?"
He cocked his head to the side. "I think I can deal with being enigmatic."
"Oh, can you? I had a feeling you might not protest that particular descriptor." She glanced down when her phone beeped to let her know she'd received a text and sighed at what she read. Locking it and lowering her hand to her lap, she returned her attention to tall, blond, and enigmatic. "As for what brings me here, work. I'm investigating a few things." Chloe could also do vague.
And deflection. "What about you? I should say, what makes you stay in Metropolis? I understand a certain project is pressing, but you don't get back to Star City much at all. Is it just that or is something else keeping you here?"
He narrowed his eyes slightly at her comment. Investigating a few things for work? He didn't like the sound of that. At all.
"Well, I hope it's nothing too dangerous." There was more than a slight hint of inflection in his voice and he raised his eyebrows. "It's a long way from Gotham."
He immediately recognized her attempt at deflection and did what he always did in that case: ignore it. "Not that Gotham is very safe, either," he added, recalling their last conversation.
Her lips quirked upwards at the corners, finding amusement in his chosen avenue of avoidance. He was planning to take down a superpowered madman, had told her about it and agreed tentatively to at least listen to her input on the situation, and he hoped she wasn't up to anything too dangerous.
"Too dangerous? What constitutes too much danger seems like a pretty subjective thing to me. Like I said before, though, you don't have to worry. I'm used it," she reminded him, though they both knew she didn't need to. "And, in general, I'm safer in places not Gotham. Although, it's not as bad now that we've got Batman creeping in the shadows and scaring off most of the more nefarious types."
She wasn't new to this game. "Sharing is a two-way street, Mr Queen. It's not exactly polite to ignore a woman's attempts to hold up her half of the conversation."
"Does it? Because of your time in Gotham?" he questioned, studying her intently. Or at least as best as he could in the darkness. "Ah, yeah. Batman. Interesting guy, isn't he?" He leaned his head back against the seat once more.
He was quiet for a few seconds, considering her earlier question. "No, I suppose I don't get back to Star City very often. There's really nothing to keep me there, either."
"No, but I wouldn't say my choice of locale helps in that sense. Everyone has different tolerance levels and ideas about what's too much." Her matter-of-fact tone likely said much, even if he couldn't study her face as intently as he might want to. "Batman is...many thing. I'd say interesting is one of them, definitely."
For her part, Chloe was tempted to use the flashlight app on her phone to illuminate his features, especially when he went quiet. She got the sense she'd learn more about him from his non-verbal communications than what he vocalized. She winced, softening her voice when he did answer. "I'm-- sorry. For your loss and my inadvertent dip into the insensitivity pool. I was just curious about the draw Metropolis held for you."
"I suppose that's fair," he agreed, chewing the inside of his cheek. "What other adjectives would you use for the bat?" Now there was a hint of curiosity to his tone. He couldn't help but wonder what her take on vigilante justice was. Granted, Oliver was pretty far from being a vigilante, and even farther away from being like Batman, but he was plotting to take the law into his own hands by dealing with Ultra-Man. And while she knew that and he hadn't been arrested, and the newspapers hadn't been splattered with information about his plan, she was still playing her cards close to the vest.
He glanced at her again when she apologized. "It's quite all right. It was a very long time ago." He shrugged a little. "I just meant that while it's where I'm from, I don't have a great deal of sentimentality for the place." A lie, utter and complete. But one he told himself every day.
"Do you want me to list off applicable adjectives or are you asking me what I think of Gotham's caped crusader?" She heard the curiosity, something she recognized and understood very well. As a citizen of Gotham and a member of the Press, she'd been asked for both before. By her editor, by her cousin, by co-workers, and frequently by people she encountered once they knew where she was from. Batman was a celebrity. A controversial one, at that. His asking did answer a question she had. He must not have looked into her too deeply. Whether that was reassuring or disappointing, she wasn't quite sure.
She cocked her head to the side, searching his face as best she could in the dim lighting. "Maybe, but I don't really believe time is the magical cure to all wounds that cliche and general sentiment leads us to believe," she said neutrally. That she was speaking from personal experience, she didn't say. "If you're happier somewhere else, that's great. If not, it's understandable. It's home
( ... )
A smile tugged at his mouth. Not only did she not pull any punches, she was also quick to see right through him. He wondered if he was really that transparent, or if she was just gifted at cutting to the core. Considering she was a reporter, he was hoping it was mostly the latter. "The latter, actually," he confessed, raising his eyebrows once more.
"And no." He drew in a breath and let it out slowly, turning his head to look out the window, though considering the fact it was pitch black outside, didn't really give him anything to look at. "Time isn't a magical cure to all wounds." He wasn't sure it was truly a cure for any wounds.
"Both, if I'm being honest." He glanced toward her once more. "Is that disappointing?"
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At least, that was her intention until she noticed him close his eyes. "Please tell me you're not that oblivious," she drawled after shifting a few seats over and coming to rest in the one next to him. "Mr. Queen, I realize you must live a very busy life, but do you really think this is the best time and place for a nap?
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"And considering we might be here for awhile, napping doesn't sound too bad."
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She scoffed, crossing a leg over the other and settling back in the seat, looking away from him and back to her phone. "Unless you care that little about keeping your personal effects, such as your wallet, I recommend finding another way to pass the time. I can think of several worthy charities if you're just looking for ways to expend more of that disposable income."
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He turned his body ever-so-slightly so he was facing her. "For the record, I don't carry cash or credit on me as a general rule. That's the beauty of ATMs on nearly every street corner." He shrugged a little. "But it is good to know more about how you see me."
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"And that's good to know," she admitted. Legs crossed toward him as they were, Chloe was already somewhat facing him. She did, however, turn her head toward him when he moved. "For the record, I'm still trying to work out how I see you. So far, it's changed at least half a dozen times. If you're going for enigmatic, not bad."
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He cocked his head to the side. "I think I can deal with being enigmatic."
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And deflection. "What about you? I should say, what makes you stay in Metropolis? I understand a certain project is pressing, but you don't get back to Star City much at all. Is it just that or is something else keeping you here?"
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"Well, I hope it's nothing too dangerous." There was more than a slight hint of inflection in his voice and he raised his eyebrows. "It's a long way from Gotham."
He immediately recognized her attempt at deflection and did what he always did in that case: ignore it. "Not that Gotham is very safe, either," he added, recalling their last conversation.
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"Too dangerous? What constitutes too much danger seems like a pretty subjective thing to me. Like I said before, though, you don't have to worry. I'm used it," she reminded him, though they both knew she didn't need to. "And, in general, I'm safer in places not Gotham. Although, it's not as bad now that we've got Batman creeping in the shadows and scaring off most of the more nefarious types."
She wasn't new to this game. "Sharing is a two-way street, Mr Queen. It's not exactly polite to ignore a woman's attempts to hold up her half of the conversation."
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He was quiet for a few seconds, considering her earlier question. "No, I suppose I don't get back to Star City very often. There's really nothing to keep me there, either."
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For her part, Chloe was tempted to use the flashlight app on her phone to illuminate his features, especially when he went quiet. She got the sense she'd learn more about him from his non-verbal communications than what he vocalized. She winced, softening her voice when he did answer. "I'm-- sorry. For your loss and my inadvertent dip into the insensitivity pool. I was just curious about the draw Metropolis held for you."
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He glanced at her again when she apologized. "It's quite all right. It was a very long time ago." He shrugged a little. "I just meant that while it's where I'm from, I don't have a great deal of sentimentality for the place." A lie, utter and complete. But one he told himself every day.
"And it's mostly the job that holds me here."
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She cocked her head to the side, searching his face as best she could in the dim lighting. "Maybe, but I don't really believe time is the magical cure to all wounds that cliche and general sentiment leads us to believe," she said neutrally. That she was speaking from personal experience, she didn't say. "If you're happier somewhere else, that's great. If not, it's understandable. It's home ( ... )
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"And no." He drew in a breath and let it out slowly, turning his head to look out the window, though considering the fact it was pitch black outside, didn't really give him anything to look at. "Time isn't a magical cure to all wounds." He wasn't sure it was truly a cure for any wounds.
"Both, if I'm being honest." He glanced toward her once more. "Is that disappointing?"
Reply
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