Thinking Bigger

July 23, 2015:

Cassie comes to Oliver's offices with a proposal; he counters with one of his own.

Queen Consolidated HQ, Penthouse Office

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Despite his skillful attempts to avoid it, Oliver Queen eventually has to go to his office and play CEO for a while. He doesn't have to be happy about it, though.

That's good, because he's definitely less than thrilled to be here. He's on his personal cell and has leaned back in his chair until he's precariously close to its tipping point. Every so often he'll lean forward, pick up a pen, and sign something. Each piece of paper is handled with the same care he'd use when encountering something slimy that he'd like to touch as little as possible. "Because of reasons, Dig. I get that being a part of this company means that I'm a part of solutions to bigger problems. My dad wrote that speech. Literally, it's on the first page of the handbook. Let guys like him handle 'bigger problems.' I'll be out stopping murderers and psychopaths. Yeah. Yeah, bye."

The stopping of psychopaths and murderers will have to wait for a while as soon Ollie's assistant is announcing his late-afternoon appointment, that being the one with Cassandra Sandsmark who is here to speak on behalf of the Musuem of World History. Normally not what an intern is allowed to do but with her mother being one of those in charge some strings were pulled and Cassie was given more responsibilty than what one might expect someone in her position to have.

When the scrappy blonde walks in the first thing Oliver might notice is her outfit; there have been some attempts made to look very business-y yet still a bit on the sexy side with the first couple buttons of her boring off-white blouse left undone. Not so much as to be risque but surely enough that her mother would not approve. "Hello, Mister Queen." Cassie swiftly approaches the desk, her right hand jutted out, perhaps calling attention to the bracer-like piece of 'jewellery' she's wearing, it's 'twin' worn on her left forearm. "Thank you for agreeing to speak with me."

Oliver knows his office is soundproof and he's been off the phone long enough that nobody caught the subject matter, yet he still straightens up a tiny bit too fast. "Ahem. My pleasure. Pardon the jump, I'd forgotten I told my assistant to bring you in directly. You'd be my four o' clock. What can I do fo you, Ms…" He shuffles paperwork around for a moment until he comes up with the right one. "…Sandsmark?"

He has the calm, lazy confidence that comes from being the most dangerous lion in the zoo. Though he's caged here, he's very much the master of his domain. Most CEOs would've been prepared for a meeting. Not only did Oliver lose track of time and name, he's also misplaced his jacket. It's nowhere to be seen, though it was a lovely shade of slate grey if his pants are to be trusted. His shirt has been unbuttoned as well, though it's just one notch for him. It's a similar off-white affair, but few things that cost that much can be considered boring. His slim black tie is similarly subtle and anything but at the same time, especially with a diamond tack. These are the dubious perks that come with being wealthy.

That and an active awareness when it comes to other people's appearance. The small differences between Cassandra and the average businesswoman are noticed and noted, but a gentleman doesn't comment on such things.

"Yes. But please call me Cassie, if it won't be too forward?" She could make the old 'Ms. Sandsmark is my mother' joke, but really. It's so old. It'd be the kind of joke her mom would make! "I will have to admit that this is my first time doing this so please keep that in mind if I make a mistake." There's a twinge of embarrassment at that and perhaps a little bit of a blush, it being one of those things she hates to have to ask for. Forgiveness, that is. Especially considering there is a lot at stake here.

Taking a deep breath, Cassie looks around, not yet sitting since she hadn't been invited to, Oliver's state of disarray taken in and then the clutter on his desk. That all gets her to smile as it all combines as a reminder of herself, espcially the messy desk which she has yet truly organized even after several years.

Having been asked to get down to brass tacks, Cassie takes a slow, deep breath in, her mind working a bit faster so she can formulate what she wants to say before she tries to give her little speech. "Well, as you know, I have been asked to represent the Museum of World History. They have been trying to…" And here is where it gets tricky. How to word this without making it sound like they're begging for money. Oh well. Balls to the walls, Cassie. Time to get to work. "Sorry. Let me change directions a little. As with many museums, ours often has to rely on the kindness of benefactors to help fund our various projects. Everything from our museum-sponsored archaelogy digs to our restoration program and all our other programs and projects cost us so much every year. And it is only with the kindness of our supporters that we can continue our work." There's a pause, time to let this sink in with Ollie.

"Relax, Cassie." Happy to drop the formalities, Oliver pushes back sleeves that are already double-rolled, then gives up and flips his cuffs one more time. "This isn't my first time, but I still remember when my father decided to send me out lobbying for him. I hated it." He pauses, chuckles, and gives his head a little shake. "Doesn't look like it's gotten any easier."

If you speak as if a person isn't standing right there it can have unexpected results. Especially when that person is the only one who can hear you. Queen's smile turns this into a shared experience; a war story to be told later. "I'm intrigued, I'll admit it," he continues. "Care to tell me more?"

Oh thank Zeus. If Cassie were made to continue with all the seriousness she probably would have started seriously making mistakes. But Oliver's gracious enough to let her off the hook, turning this agonizing speechifying into something more comfortable and a lot less intimidating. "Thank you. And no. It isn't easy. I really wish my mother would have found someone else to do this for her." But no, Helena decided that it'd be good for her daughter to experience this first hand on the off-chance that she might come work for her full time once she's done with college. "I do appreciate the chance to speak with you on a more intimate level…" Oh yikes, did she just say that? Thankfully the meeting's not yet concluded and Cassie can hopefully push things past her (most likely Freudian) slip.

Ahem. "The museum is in the process of planning a large dig on one of the Greecian islands… Did you know that Greece has six thousand islands? Anyhow, the archaeologists will be there for six months. There's so much wonderful history to be found in Greece and we've only started to scrape the tip of the proveribal iceberg." The longer Cassie talks the more excited she gets, this being her forte. Maybe she will become an archaeologist like her mother.

Oliver must be feeling charitable today, because he lets the 'intimate' incident pass without a word and barely a smile, though he isn't able to entirely suppress the latter. "Believe it or not, I did know that. I'm something of an expert when it comes to islands."

He allows himself a slightly wider smile, partly because of his little joke. "You're very passionate. I admire that. I imagine it's an occupational hazard in your field." A short pause and a small nod, then he goes on. "Let me speculate. You'd like me to fund one of these expeditions, I take it? Or several, should I be reckless enough to sign a check of that size."

His words are anything but unkind. If a billionaire wearing a worked-in suit and a genuine smile is trying to offend a person, they'd know it. "And that's a noble goal, of course. But have you considered thinking bigger?"

It is very kind of Oliver to not call attention to her wording, isn't it? It gets the donation-hunter to inwardly sigh in relief while outwardly not letting it be heard or show. "Oh. Right." Damn. Of course Oliver would know something about little bits of land in the middle of big bodies of water. Sheesh. Cassie feels her throat grow dry and her palms get clammy, a sign that her nerves are returning. "If I may impose upon you, Mister Oliver, may I request a glass of water, please?" Not a big request, that, but hopefully it will be seen as a small one and not an imposition.

"A part of one, although we would not turn you down if you were to offer a larger donation, sir." Cassie's damp hands get clasped behind her, hiding her palms which are not going to dry any time soon. "You see, most of our sponsored digs are funded by multiple donators. Many are people who donate a hundred here, maybe a couple thousand there. Some are children who save up pennies to help. So you would not be asked to fund a dig solely on your own, unless you wished to."

Oliver's last question… well, that has Cassie stumped. "Bigger, Mister Queen? What do you mean?"

"Ahh, but you just made my point for me." While he talks, Oliver moves around behind his desk and pulls out a small bottle of spring water. It's passed to Cassie along with a nod before he elaborates. "You're fishing, for lack of a better term. Big fish, little fish. Doesn't matter as long as it adds up to a meal. If you reel in a whale then you get to rest a little easier for minute or two."

Though he never retook his seat after standing to greet Cassie, now he returns to his desk and shuffles through this and that in search of something specific. "If you'll pardon me belaboring the metaphor, what you need is a chance to catch as many fish as you can at the same time. Concentrate your efforts to try and multiply your results. For example, someone like me could cut you a very respectable check. I probably will. But money isn't the only thing that people like me have to offer. You could, for example, offer to dedicate one of the new sites in honor of my father. I might be so grateful that I'd feel compelled to do you a favor in return. I could…"

And now Oliver does smile, but it's a small one. "…host a modest gathering, perhaps. Invite a few of my friends. I do love any reason to open too many bottles of champagne. That gathering could serve as quite a venue for a presentation about your fundraising campaign. Theoretically."

It's an unquestionably and borderline unfortunately long speech. Somehow, he manages to make all of this sound like baseless speculation. Though his suggestions are thorough, they're very honest in a relaxed sort of way. It's the way he treats young, freshly minted executives at Queen Consolidated. The promising ones, anyway.

Metaphors? Aren't those supposed to be for old people or something? At least it's helping Oliver get to the point and long before Cassie's eyes can threaten to gloss over and all that his point is made as well as those 'subtle' suggestions, each one of those he makes met with a bob of her head that causes those blonde tresses of hers to sway about her shoulders. "I am sure my mother and her peers would agree to that," she eventually ventures with, her smile pleased. "Your father was a great man and I am very sorry he is not here to see what it is we all will be accomplishing together. If we decide to go forward with it, of course." Now is not the time to get ahead of herself and assume things will happen just because they're smiling and chatting nicely with each other.

Tapping a finger to her lower lip, the young woman has to pause and consider everything. "Of course this will have to be brought up with my mother but I am sure that she'll find everything to be agreeable, Mister Queen." Finally able to breathe again, she blushes, that lovely shade of coloring dipping well past the neckline of her blouse. "If you'd like, I can be the laision between the two of you. And maybe the two of us," that being Oliver and her, "can meet over lunch sometime."

"I'm always grateful when I find I have an ally in places I least expected. Please give your mother my best." Though the woman in question is nowhere near, Oliver bobs a small, respectful nod. Say what you will about the Queens, they know how to pick a boarding school to raise their son right. "As far as lunch is concerned, I'd be delighted. I always enjoy seeing what a young professional has on their mind, and in mind for themselves. Maybe you can give me a few pointers."

Though it'd be completely improper to flirt with a teenager that someone sent to his office in good faith, making one blush and lending his own business perspective seems completely harmless. Ollie reaches out to shake Cassandra's hand no differently than he would when seeing off a visiting executive. He meets her eyes squarely and gives her a smile. "I always keep at least one lunch free each week in case something comes up and I don't feel like dealing with it in the office. See my assistant on the way out and we'll get you into one of those slots."

"I will pass on your greetings." For a second Ollie's hand gets stared at before she shakes it, the blush intensifying. Hopefully Oliver Queen is not a telepath or something, otherwise he just might wind up 'deafened' by the world's loudest mental squee. "I think I have taken enough of your time so… oh, yes. I will speak with your receptionist. Thank you for talking with me." Oliver is given one of her brightest smiles, the end of their meeting meaning the end of her discomfort. "Do take care." Giving the CEO a wave, she is out the door, pausing to make that lunch date… er, appointment, and then she's off to the city beyond the building proper.

It is not two minutes later before a Tweet is typed out and sent: 'omg, i just touched oliver queen's hand! #nevergonnawashthishand #morehandsomeinperson'.

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