If you asked her, Verity couldn’t tell you exactly why she liked Oliver. The best example she could give herself is that he reminded her of a pet she had when she was younger. She wasn’t cruel as a child, but she wasn’t exactly empathetic towards others either. For her eighth birthday, however, the only thing she wanted as a puppy. So naturally, she got three little puppies the following September. One was much smaller than the others but was by far the most cuddly. Given her obsession at the time, she named him Sherlock. He would get less food because he was often knocked away from the shared food bowl by the other puppies. But he was the only one that wouldn’t scratch her; he would kiss her hands and sleep quietly at her feet and never bark. He was her favorite. Oliver reminded her a lot of that puppy, which she supposes is kind of.. well, extremely rude. But he’s sweet and genuine and doesn’t seem like he would hurt anyone. Contrary to popular belief, Verity isn’t heartless. She’s selective about who she chooses to torment and she usually doesn’t actively try to hurt people she sees as decent people. Oliver is a decent person.
That doesn’t mean she understands him. Needs to be fed? He really did remind her of Sherlock. “You need to be fed?” She asked, quirking a brow as she hopped up onto the counter. Her apartment wasn’t off limits to those not in her “inner circle” of other rich and immoral people- it was just her bedroom and library that she was selective about- so it wasn’t that strange that he waltzed in shortly after she had texted if he was busy. “What are you looking for?” She asked, brow quirking up slightly as he searched. She did have a stash of menus- two to be exact, an expensive Italian place where she only ordered flatbread and a hole in the wall Thai place which was her secret favorite- under her silverware. “I can call Sonya if you want.” She offered, referring to the private chef that her family had on call. There was a decent amount of food in her kitchen but Verity was clueless on how to actually cook any of it. She also highly doubted Oliver would accept her offer; but his reaction to her somewhat excessive lifestyle never failed to amuse her.
Slowly, Oliver peeled himself from the opposite countertop and crossed forward to Verity’s side, resting his folded arms on the counter next to her, his search abandoned now that Verity had come to direct him properly. “I do,” he confirmed, smiling as he nodded. Everything about Verity seemed like something that he should run from; he knew better than this. He’d grown up in Northpoint, yes, but he had never allowed himself to forget that he was not one of them. Northpoint was a gilded town in a not-so-gilded world, and Oliver was one of the few that knew that most intimately. No. He knew how to play the game, but was always careful not to let himself think that any of this belonged to him. Maybe it could, one day, but for now, he was just the pauper. And that was okay. Oliver was happy. He had been enormously lucky in his life, in those small, day-to-day ways that end up meaning everything. “Menus,” he said, grinning. “Unless we were going to cook something ourselves?” It was only half a joke – Verity was competent and capable as hell, and just because Oliver had never actually seen her cook didn’t mean that she couldn’t.
That smile, which came so easily and so frequently to his face, faltered in the face of a mixture of surprise and indignation ---- and when it came back, it wasn’t quite as vibrant as it once was. “We’re not calling Sonya,” he said firmly, pushing away from the counter and straightening. It was just a few feet, but the distance between them seemed suddenly monumental and palpable. “In fact,” he said, voice light as he tried to regain his footing. He was never sure where he stood with Verity – and whenever he felt like he was making progress, it was as if she pushed him back three steps – or, perhaps more aptly, jumped ahead of him five. Which was fine – Oliver didn’t imagine that they would ever have the sort of relationship where they would be up in the middle of the night, spilling their darkest secrets to each other, but certainly they could be a pair. “Just for that suggestion, I get to pick where we order from.” Of course, he would still pick from her selection of menus rather than dipping into his own phone contacts to pick out some of his favorite take away spots.
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