"Nothing I can't make up in good time." Ray offered a polite smile, navigating his answer like a tightrope, between the pitfalls of sounding inconvenienced, or giving the impression his time was of little value to the company. He was talking to his potential future boss, after all. With a gesture to the smart logo above the elevator doors, he added, "Besides, I believe that's your name on the wall. Whatever lands on my desk, today, can wait."

The smile broadened, knowingly. No point in tiptoeing around the obvious: today was a big deal for Queen Consolidated. Part of him wanted to swell with pride at being asked to usher the Oliver Queen around the building, on his first day, to be the face to make that all-important first impression, but the other part, the one that kept his ego in check and the intolerable shining optimist at bay, that part quietly reminded him that the only reason he was on executive babysitter detail, in the first place, was because his services would not be required for another hour. That was when the new stories started to flood in.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Your security clearance." Both Oliver and Miss Yamashiro were presented with a lanyard, each bearing their own laminated ID card. "Don't worry, I vetted the photos, myself. They're head shots to make your mom proud."

It took all of a second for Ray to remember who it was he was speaking to, and his smile faltered. One of the many things Oliver Queen was famous for was being tragically orphaned at a young age. Outstanding work, Terrill. Perhaps, if you're lucky, you'll discover that Miss Yamashiro watched her dear old mother being mauled to death by a tiger, too. He cleared his throat to dislodge the foot from his mouth, and turned a stiff quarter on his heel, to face the elevator doors, where he willed them to open. After about 6 months, there was a soft ping, the doors opened, and they stepped inside. The other suited employees maintained a respectful, perhaps reverent, distance from the prodigal son, which meant it was just the three of them. It was the perfect opportunity to ambush them with a cheeky elevator selfie. Of course, that never happened, because Ray remembered in time that he was not, in fact, a 12-year-old girl.

In the mirrored interior, he caught a glimpse of himself, and allowed for a self-satisfied tick of a smile. He did look good, and Oliver had noticed, too. Well, he'd complimented the suit, which was close enough. His insides had done something strange, in that moment, as if the thousand butterflies has burst into explosive colour like the 4th of July. He was returning to his senses, now, and it was everything in him to keep his gaze from wandering south - to take full advantage of that magnificent 90 degree reflection from behind. In the end, he was able to resist because he knew Oliver Queen looked good in a suit. No proof was necessary.

"I'll start with my neck of the woods, if it's all the same to you." He the button for the 16th Floor, "Are you interested in journalism, Mr. Queen?"