"What's that on your neck, dear?"
Felicity blinked dazedly as Moira's question pulled her from her musings. She set her mimosa on the table and touched the bruise below her jaw. "This?" She couldn't keep a small smile from her face. The mere memory made her warm all over.
"It looks like Oliver apologized,"
"A few times, yes."
"Good. I hope he got down on his knees and begged."
"He got down on his knees but it wasn't to beg."
The always-poised Mrs. Queen nearly choked on her mimosa and had to smack the table in order to regain her composure.
Felicity took a tentative sip. "Sorry,"
Moira coughed a bit. "I suppose I walked right into that one."
"Okay, new subject." But after the words formed in her mind, they got caught in her throat. She twisted the thin stem of the glass between her fingers before continuing. "I need to talk to you about Rochev."
"Ah yes, my husband's soulmate. What about her?"
"She wants to destroy the Queens, and the city along with us if that's what it takes. Slade told me."
Moira leaned forward. "Slade? Wilson? What would he know about her?"
"He…" How upset would Oliver be? This wasn't technically about his secret. "He was with Oliver on the island. He had big plans to hurt Oliver in every way possible and he enlisted Rochev's help to do it. Mine too, actually. But instead of joining him I shot him and pickled his head in a jar."
Her mother-in-law stared for a long time. Then she sat back in her chair and took a swig of her drink. "Which means Rochev's next on your list?"
"I thought you'd want to help me take her down." Moira was very hard to read. Either she was disapproving or eager to help. "…I could probably find a way to land her in jail—"
"Do you honestly think prison will stop that rapacious hellbeast? Darling, I will settle for nothing less than her head on a pike. And do you know why?"
"Because she stole your husband and is now threatening your children?"
"And she tried to fuck my son and take over my family's company. Let's put this bitch in the ground."
Felicity shrugged. "Yeah, all right then."
Moira raised her glass. "To offing the mistress."
"That too," Their glasses clinked and the homicidal socialites resumed their brunch.
A hush fell over the lobby as the two Mrs. Queens entered the building. Passersby greeted them nervously, too intimidated to make eye contact.
"You look worried," Felicity noticed once they were in the executive elevator. "Are you having second thoughts?"
"Absolutely not." she replied firmly, casting a furtive glance as Felicity's black leather gloves. "I just hope you're being careful."
The elevator dinged and the women stepped out. The clicking of their heels announced their arrival and Isabel looked up from her desk in mild surprise. She stood up and met them in the middle of her office.
"It's nice to see the two of you," she lied, studying Felicity's grayscale outfit before eyeing her hair. "Gray is certainly your color, isn't it?"
It was lucky that when Felicity flashed her a warm smile, Rochev failed to notice the briefest note of wrath in her eyes.
"We're here to call a truce."
"A truce?" Isabel's kind smile seemed somehow vicious, especially with the soft laugh that accompanied it. "I didn't know we were at war."
"It's been a cold war, dear," Moira stepped in gracefully. "But now we have a common enemy."
Rochev was both intrigued and suspicious. "Who?"
Felicity's jaw tensed. "Let's just say we support your endeavors concerning this company."
"My son is too… unreliable to run Queen Consolidated."
"To the point of being undeserving." Felicity added with barely contained bitterness.
The gears were clearly turning as Rochev studied the two Queens. She crossed her arms and slowly approached them. "He must've done something terrible to inspire such a loss of loyalty."
Felicity's features were turning hard as stone. "He proved to be his father's son."
"Which is a trespass I'm finding difficult to forgive." Moira admitted.
Isabel looked… Well, it was hard to tell. She was keeping her emotions in check but as best as the Queens could tell she was surreptitiously triumphant.
Felicity mustered up a subtle smile. "I'll convince Oliver to temporarily grant you full control of the company while he makes time to work on our marriage. Then in the end we can both get what we want."
Isabel's eyes narrowed, a fearsome smirk rupturing on her face. "And what do we want?"
The young Mrs. Queen frowned, feigning confusion as she delivered her answer: "Why, money, power, and vengeance of course."
Finally united, the two said goodbye with cheek kisses and pats on the back like old friends. Felicity made sure to hold her hand in thanks before leaving, her palm "absentmindedly" brushing the exposed paper cut she "accidentally" gave Isabel the day before.
When they finally got back in the Bentley, Moira let out a breath as if she hadn't breathed since stepping onto the elevator. "Now take those things off!"
Felicity was already removing the leather gloves carefully and dropping them in a hazmat bag. Moira then took out the can of Lysol she'd brought along and proceeded to disinfect the car and everyone in it.
"The hell is going on back there?" sputtered Diggle from the driver's seat as the women coughed and gagged. "What's wrong with those gloves?"
Felicity watched as Moira opened the bag and attacked the gloves with Lysol.
"Nothing's wrong with them." Felicity responded innocently.
Diggle eyed her. "What did you do?"
"Talked to Rochev, just like we told you we would."
"Yes, and it was a lovely conversation." Moira said, backing her up as she sealed the bag. "Now, Mr. Diggle, I believe we have lunch reservations at Table Salt. We should get going."
Diggle observed the two poised, most likely murderous ladies in the back seat and sighed. "Something tells me you're stuck in the anger stage of the grieving process."
"You're damn fucking right I am," Felicity replied calmly, "and I'm channeling it into something productive. I won't stand by and watch these psychopathic shitheads go after my husband and family and they sure as hell won't get away with threatening a city full of people."
"Nobody fucks with the Queens, dear," Moira stated with the same strange level of composure.
"Yes, exactly!" Felicity smiled as she placed a grateful hand on Moira's forearm. "Eloquently put."
Diggle turned around and started the car, eager to get out of the suddenly unnerving parking garage. "Damn, when did you people turn into the mafia?" he muttered as the engine rumbled.
"Veni Vidi Vici" by Black Lips
Flashbacks aren't done yet!
By the way, this site doesn't allow web addresses, in case you haven't noticed. So for my friend who is trying to get in touch with me via Tumblr (sorry readers but this is literally the only way I can contact her right now) my Tumblr name is Malformed Potato.