The Gotham Globe

[Oliver Queen]

New Assistant.

Right, because he was the sort of person who had one of those now, wasn't he? Responsible. Corporate. That was the reality that he needed to embrace, and embody. It didn't matter that Publisher of the Gotham Globe was about as prestigious as Trophy Wife: both of them needed to look the part, needed to know how to walk the walk and talk the talk. It was easier said than done. In Oliver's experience, a personal assistant's primary responsibility was to be flirted with and potentially seduced by youthful trust fund brats - something that Oliver hadn't been for a long time. If his job was meaningless, then what purpose did an assistant actually serve? What exactly was it that Queen Consolidated expected him to need assisting with?

He fought the urge to frown, as he considered that name. Garrick. As in Jason Garrick, Oliver presumed; given his own familial connection to the Board, there was no reason to suspect otherwise. Head of Corporate Compliance, a position as mysterious and ambiguous as Oliver's own, as far as his understanding went. He wondered what agendas were at play here: coincidence, or nepotism, or something more considered and purposeful, like Oliver's own motivations? Was she here to keep tabs on him? To ensure his compliance on her father's behalf, should it be required? Was she an innocent pawn in a larger game, an excuse to visit, to scrutinise Oliver and his workspace in different ways? Or was the reason more benevolent, an opportunity embraced for an inoffensive first step into the corporate world, or kindred spirit for Oliver's benefit? There were too many possibilities, too many potential targets and no clear line of sight. Now wasn't the time for a shot in the dark: now was the time to watch, and wait, and hope for a better opportunity to draw the right kind of conclusion.

"Jesse Garrick," he repeated, reinforcing his smile, and reinforcing the name in his mind. His brow flickered into a slight frown, however, and he allowed the smile to falter. "I'll be honest with you, Jesse: I'm not great with names. First names I can cope with, but surnames? Can't remember them, and maybe it's the private school alumnus in me talking, but I'm not a big fan of them either. Something about the way teachers and other students use them to talk down to you, especially when that name carries a special kind of weight like mine."

Or yours, a momentary pause implied. He offered a shrug. "Long story short, Jesse is all I can commit to remembering without there being a helpful reminder or a name badge involved. And, fair is fair, that probably means you should call me Oliver."

He glanced across at the edia specialist. "That goes for you too, Ray."

[Ray Terrill]

The moment Oliver Queen appeared in his doorway, Ray lurched upright from the desk. It was instinctive, the kind of ingrained response to sighting a boss you wanted to impress, a boss you did not want to mistake you for the kind of unmotivated bum who lounged about the moment his back was turned. There was something else in that smile, he thought, like the cat that got the cream. Perhaps the talks with Mr. Edge went well. Instead of dwelling on whatever unknown dialogue had transpired between the current and former publisher of the Globe, Ray went about relaxing his face into something more natural and less deer-in-headlights. It didn't last long, however, for when he heard his very own joke tumble from Oliver's lips, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. His own stellar sense of humour vindicated, he fired Jesse a smug glance, and stumbled over the best way to capitalise on the sudden sparkling hint of common ground between himself and Oliver Queen.

"That's what I-!" he blurted, hand aloft like a celebrating soccer player, "I mean you just... Man-! Edias! ...Good one."

On the inside, Ray could feel himself imploding under the weight of his own lameness. He cleared his throat, then, and gave Jesse and Oliver a wide berth to become acquainted. Slowly, he circled the room. Amongst the unremarkable contents of his room, his Wall of Weird practically glared like a beacon, and, without context, it had the unfortunate effect of making him look like a fledgeling sociopath. Jesse handled the introduction with charismatic flair, as expected, and mercifully, had positioned herself in such a way that Oliver had his back to both Ray and the obnoxious Wall of Weird. And, by the time, Oliver looked his way again, the map was drawn down into place, the Wall of Weird was out of sight. Ray attempted to look as natural as possible, with mixed results.

"Great!" he said, his smile resurfaced with ease, "Now I can tell my buddies at McGinty's that I'm on first name terms with Oliver Queen. You won't mind if I throw your name around for personal gain, right?"

[Jesse Garrick]

Poor Ray...

Faced with our idols, we all turn into drooling adolescents. She glanced over as Ray pulled down the map over the collection of oddities. "Jesse is fine, Oliver." She smiled and looked back at him with her full attention. "As to keeping track of names. I am good at that. So you let me know who you are supposed to remember, and I will make sure you do when it counts. How's that?" She laughed slightly and nodded with the reassurance she wanted to convey to him.

She then winked and leaned in with a whisper that everyone in the room could hear. "And I promise to never talk down to you unless you tell me you need it. How's that?" Something told her there would come a time when Oliver would benefit from a good talking to. She just wanted him to know she would be there to support that. And also so he knew she wasn't one to go 'gaga' over him and blindly swoon every time he batted his eyes.