Technical Assistance

Chapter 4: Initial Computer Setup

Felicity Smoak has never felt so out-of-place in her life as when she drives up to the Queen mansion in her Mini Cooper with Oliver's newly assembled computer.  She feels like she's at homecoming all over again, but this time she's sitting in the middle of the popular crowd with her nose in a book.  She shouldn't be here, but of course Oliver wanted the damn laptop delivered to him.  She doesn't want to go in there, but she doesn't really have a choice.

She squares her shoulders as she walks up to the door and dares ring the doorbell.  She's only mildly surprised when a maid opens the door.  "May I help you?" she asks in a light accent that takes Felicity a moment to identify.  Russian, probably, but it could just as easily be Ukrainian or another Slavic language.

"Yeah, hi," she answers awkwardly, but she's just glad her voice isn't shaking—or worse, she could have her voice crack like a boy going through puberty.  "My name is Felicity Smoak.  I'm not sure if—"

The woman nods, smiles.  "Please, Miss Smoak," she says, opening the door wide and waving her in.  "Mister Oliver is expecting you.  He should be down soon."  Felicity balks at the use of "Mister Oliver," but she follows the nice, motherly woman into the foyer.

She can barely hold back a gasp of surprise as she walks into the impressive entrance, examining the high arch of the ceiling, the wooden staircase, and the ornate decor.  The maid leads her into the foyer, with expensive-looking furniture and a very nice plasma TV on the wall.  She's even more intimidated by the mansion now than before; she should seriously not be here.  After all, Felicity's idea of fancy is a dinner at Olive Garden, and she's pretty sure that's a Rembrandt—the real thing, not a print—on the wall.

"Mister Oliver will be with you shortly," she offers kindly, and she beams when Felicity thanks her.  She's clearly not used to kind, fair treatment from the Starling City elite, and Felicity can't help but feel a little sorry for her.  Felicity may not have the world's best job, but at least she's treated like an actual human being every day.

The maid disappears, and Felicity sits in silence for a very long moment, letting her thoughts run wild as she looks around the room.  She actually dares to sit on the expensive sofa, and she finds it's rather comfortable for high-priced furniture (not that she has much experience with that).  Even the coffee table looks expensive, and she finds a very nice collection of Shakespeare's plays sitting on the table as part of the decor.  It looks old, and she wonders if it's worth anything.  But, knowing the Queen mansion, it probably is.  After all, she reminds herself, these are the kind of people who blow their noses on hundred-dollar bills.

She almost misses it when the girl walks in, her chocolate-colored hair wavy and long.  She's young and beautiful, and bored in the same sense that Felicity has always imagined the idle rich.  She knows on sight the girl is Thea Queen, but the camera doesn't do the girl justice.  But, then again, maybe it does; she's pretty wasted in most of those paparazzi shots that splatter across the local tabloids.

The girl narrows her eyes at Felicity, and she feels a tendril of dread work its way down her spine.  The stories say that Thea has a temper, and that it does not bode well to be on her bad side.  Felicity swallows, and the girl says to her, "Let me guess—you're here to see my brother."  It's a statement, not a question, and the disdain in her voice is as clear as day—as well as the implication she's making.

All Felicity knows is that she wants to set her straight, but that somehow leaves her mouth in a rush of, "Oliver and I have never had sex."   She turns crimson when she realizes what she says, and she puts a hand to her forehead and moans, "You know, I should just have my mouth sewed shut—it would save me a lot of trouble."

She's not sure what she expects as a response, but Thea falls onto the opposite sofa, laughing.  Felicity envies the way she still manages to be graceful with the action, even as she wipes tears from her eyes.  After she finally sobers, she says with a lilt to her voice, "You're not like the others, are you?"  Before Felicity can respond, Thea shakes her head.  "I'm sorry—I'm being rude."