Felicity:

Felicity felt as if she had been hit with a train (a fully laden freight train is extremely heavy and can weigh up to a thousand tones). Add a few elephants and a blue whale (the heaviest animal on the planet at 418,878 lbs) and she had been well and truly thrown for a loop.

Oliver was surprised she hadn't confronted him about it sooner? After all the stress she'd endured (and caused herself), she was not impressed with his flippant manner. What a giant JERK BALL! How dare he treat her like that! If he knew she'd figure it out, why didn't he tell her from the start?

"How dare you!" She shouted suddenly, hitting him repeatedly with the flowers she'd forgotten to give him. "Surprised I didn't confront you sooner? I'll give you sooner!"

Even Felicity didn't know what she meant by the last part, but righteous indignation had overridden her common sense and she just felt like shouting. She hit him again, before realizing just what she was doing. She was effectively attacking an injured man (with a bunch of flowers, no less), who could break her with his little finger. Not that you could break someone with your little finger, unless you were like Superman or something, but she felt she deserved to be a bit overdramatic.

Luck was on Felicity's side; however, as instead of paying her back in kind, Oliver looked as if he was barely restraining laughter.

"It is not funny, Queen!" Felicity barely resisted the urge to stamp her foot like a child, but thought better of it. She didn't want to add more fuel to growing amusement on Oliver's face (although she had to admit it was nice to see him so animated). "How was I supposed to know that you were smart enough to figure out, that I would be able to determine that you were the guy in the hood?"

Oliver raised his eyebrow at her and Felicity cut herself off abruptly. Had she really just implied that Oliver was stupid? She hadn't meant too. In fact, with the five years he had spent in isolation and the number of schools he dropped out of, she would have to say that he was naturally gifted in the intelligence department. She quickly started backtracking.

"That came out wrong. I think your smart, but I didn't think you'd be able to think this far ahead." Felicity knew she was digging herself a hole, but she couldn't seem to stop. She might as well invest in her gravestone; it would probably read 'Here Lies Felicity Smoak – She Talked Herself To Death. "Not that I'm saying your incapable of thinking ahead, just that you know this is an unprecedented situation and no one could have foreseen how it was going to go down…"

Felicity desperately wanted him to stop her from babbling, but he stood there stoically watching her. The amusement had drained from his face, so she'd obviously said something that he didn't like. Or he could be just sick of her constant chatter, because she sure was. She crossed her arms, the mangled flowers dangling from her grip.

Silence deceased on them, like a heavy blanket. She didn't dare try to break it, something about it feeling fragile. They held each others gaze; a rudimentary battle of wills ensuing. Neither of them wanted to be the first to lay their cards on the table. She wanted to know what he knew and visa verse.

"Oliver, man, I heard about the accident. Are you ok?" Tommy Merlyn breezed into the room, concern for his best friend evident on his face.

Felicity's concentration broke, causing her to look away first. Partially because she didn't want to get caught staring at Oliver like a demented puppy and partly because it was unnerving how unnerved Oliver made her feel. It was like he'd crawled inside her mind and found all her secrets. Felicity felt exposed to the world.

"I'm fine, Tommy," Oliver replied, without looking at him. Felicity could still feel him watching her. He was probably trying to figure out what to do with her, now that she knew about his nightly activities. "Just a few bumps and bruises. I'll be back to normal in no time."

"I'm glad to hear it." Tommy must have realized he'd interrupted something, because he shot a questioning glance in Felicity's direction. "Forgive my rude best friend, but I'm Tommy Merlyn and you are?"

Tommy held his hand towards her. Felicity shook it on reflex, her brain not fully engaged yet. "Felicity Smoak. I work for Mr. Steele."

"Nice to meet you Felicity," Tommy said, smiling at her. He seemed friendly enough, but she needed to leave. She needed to think.

"Mm, you too," she replied. "But I must be off. Lots to do and no time to do it in."

Felicity made to walk (run) out the living room door, but Oliver caught her by the upper arm. His hand seemed to burn through her jacket, his heat sinking into her skin. She resisted the urge to shake it off. She had already attacked him with flowers, she didn't want to risk wrenching his side.

"We will discuss this further." Oliver's tone left no room for argument. She tried not to look him in the eye and failed (she really wished he'd stop snaring her with those damn orbs).He fully believed that they would be having another chat about this whole thing. Perhaps in a few weeks when she didn't feel inclined to jump out of her own skin. He didn't let her go, until she nodded. "Good."

Oliver let her go and Felicity all but ran from the room. She didn't even say goodbye.

Felicity went straight back to work. She hadn't been lying, when she said she had work to do, but it wasn't anything that wouldn't take a few hours to fix. She threw herself into it, hoping to distract herself from what had happened in Queen Manor.

It worked for a while, but then her thoughts started wandering to a certain blue-eyed, scruffy faced, miscreant. Felicity was utterly confused by his behaviour. Why wasn't he freaking out? Why, not once, did he ask her whether she'd keep his secret or not?

Oliver was so nonchalant about the whole thing. Here she was, sitting on a huge secret that wasn't even her own and he was probably out on the town with Tommy or firing arrows at bad guys without a care in the world (mentally at least, physically you know they're a lot of dangers out there). Her mind kept going back to Oliver and the list. There was a connection; she felt it in her bones. It was the first question she wanted to ask him.

Felicity was pretty sure that Oliver wasn't going to kill her (96%, okay maybe, 75% or 60%). Sighing, she rested her head back against the chair, closed her eyes and spun herself around in a circle. There was no point staying in the office anymore; she had finished her work. Mr. Steele hadn't contacted her either and he wasn't in the building, apparently off on some last-minute business trip.

Might as well go home for the night, she thought. She logged out of her computer, making sure all her firewalls and safety mechanisms were in place. Grabbing her coat from the back of her chair, she stood up. She immediately sat back down again, hit with a dizzy spell. Note to self: don't spin around on the office chair, with your eyes closed and on an empty stomach. Her stomach, choose that moment to voice its hunger, gurgling loudly.

Felicity hit up her favorite Chinese restaurant on her way home (sweet and sour chicken with egg fired rice and a portion of calamari, yum). She stopped into a bookstore to pick up a computer magazine she'd been waiting for, smiling happily. Food and reading material, at least that much was going well for her today.

Fifteen minutes later, she was sitting at her table, eating her food with such gusto she'd have been embarrassed if anyone saw. Once she finished, she carried her ware to the sink. She decided to take a quick shower and change into her pajamas before tackling the washing up. There were some glasses and plates left over from the day before.

She walked to her bedroom, pulling her work clothes off and grabbed a baggy t-shirt and women's boxers out of one of her drawers. She tossed her dirty laundry into the basket, under the sink. She was hoping the hot water would help loosen up her tense muscles. As the water ran down her body, she became aware that the spot that Oliver touched was tingling, as if he was still touching it. She decided to ignore it, blaming her overactive imagination. She concentrated on the heat coming off the water instead. It seemed to work too; a wave of tiredness hitting her when she finally stepped out. She towel dried her hair and pulled on her t-shirt and boxers.

Felicity yawned loudly. No sleep yet, she told herself sternly, must do dishes. She padded down to her kitchen and walked over to the sink. She filled it with warm water and a dot of washing-up liquid and started washing the glasses. She was half-way done when a spot high up on her back got itchy. Drying her hands, she attempted to scratch it herself, but she couldn't reach.

"Would you like some help?"

At the sound of the intruder, Felicity's entire body sniffed and she acted on pure instinct. Yanking her hand out from under her t-shirt, she grabbed the closet object, a plate as it turns out, and whirled around. She hurled the plate across the room, aiming for the intruders head, before she comprehended who it was. He managed to duck, before the plate made contact. It shattered against the wall behind him instead.

"First flowers and now plates," Oliver shook his head in mock dismay. "That's not a very nice way to treat an invalid."

Felicity could only gape at him. How had he gotten into her apartment?

"Now lets discuss the terms of your employment."