She hasn’t said a word to him since they arrived.
"You sure you’re okay?" Oliver asks for the second time as he narrows his eyes questioningly at her.
She doesn’t look at him when she hums what he assumes is a yes.
"Maybe you should sit down," he suggests. He can’t get a read on her, can’t figure out why she won’t stop pacing.
She sighs loudly, following him to the assembly line of plastic chairs lining the waiting room’s walls. Her leg is shaking, the tips of her heels clapping a quick staccato beat on the tile floor. Oliver places his hand on her knee, leaning forward and tilting his head so that his eyes lock with hers. “Felicity?”
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