"I really think she likes you more," Oliver says, holding the baby up over his head towards Felicity.
Felicity takes a step back, shaking her head emphatically. “Oh, no, definitely you, I’ve seen the way she lights up when you walk into the room. She’s gunning to be president of your fan club…at eight months old.”
"Come on, Felicity, take her," he pleads, wrinkling his nose. "You’re better at stuff like this."
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