Malcolm Merlyn wasn't sure what to say when he saw the blank expression on Thea's face. He tried to find something that might ease the awkwardness, but every possible sentence sounded wrong before he could even say it.
He was beginning to regret ever coming to the Queen residence with the intention of suggesting a relationship between Tommy and Thea. Perhaps he should have investigated things more thoroughly before making such a proposal.
If only he had known.
Thea, meanwhile, felt as though a considerable weight had finally been lifted from her shoulders. After hearing Moira's confession, she knew her life was considerably safer than it had been just moments earlier.
Still, she kept her expression carefully blank.
She was supposed to be shocked, wasn't she? Upset, confused, perhaps even devastated. So she made an attempt at looking as though she might cry. Unfortunately, all that came out was a sigh.
Well, that would have to do.
She turned around and hurried out of the room.
"Thea..." Moira called after her, her voice hoarse.
Sorry, Moira.
Thea didn't look back. She only hoped that, in the future, Moira would treat her a little better.
For now, she had somewhere else to be.
Thea left the Queen residence and headed for one of Starling City's more luxurious bars.
It wasn't exactly a dramatic escape from home. She simply needed somewhere to sit, have a drink, and think without anyone constantly watching her every move.
A high-end establishment seemed like the safest option. Malcolm had considerable influence in the city, and a place like this was unlikely to attract the sort of trouble she might encounter in a smaller, less reputable bar.
Besides, she had a feeling Malcolm had already made arrangements.
The bar's owner certainly seemed to think so.
He knew Malcolm's business dealings well enough, but receiving a personal call from the man himself was an entirely different matter. Malcolm had repeated his instructions three times, making it abundantly clear that the young lady who would be arriving needed to be protected.
The owner had almost asked whether she was Malcolm's daughter.
Almost.
Judging by the man's tone, however, he suspected that asking too many questions would be a terrible idea.
Several imposing men had already been positioned around the establishment. They were supposed to keep an eye on the entrance and make sure nobody approached the girl with questionable intentions.
The owner had even instructed the DJ to play something softer.
The DJ had looked confused. A few customers had complained.
Neither reaction mattered.
Malcolm Merlyn had personally asked him to look after the girl. That was more than enough reason to follow his instructions.
"Good evening, ma'am. What can I get for you?"
The owner nearly choked when he heard the employee's greeting.
"Miss," he corrected immediately. "Call her miss."
The employee blinked.
"Right. Miss."
His younger brother, who had been standing nearby, gave him a suspicious look.
Had the boss forgotten to take his medication again?
Thea, meanwhile, had already finished two glasses.
The owner considered the situation for a moment. She was young, and he had no intention of letting her drink too much. He would allow her to take her time, make sure someone stayed nearby, and ensure that nobody bothered her.
She was pretty, too. That alone was enough to attract unwanted attention in a place like this.
He turned toward the men stationed around the bar.
"Keep an eye on the entrance. If anything happens, I want to know immediately."
One of them nodded.
His younger brother leaned closer.
"Who exactly is that girl?"
The owner glanced at Thea again.
He knew she rarely visited places like this. The Queen family was known for being rather strict, and Malcolm's tone during their phone conversation had made one thing painfully clear: absolutely nothing was supposed to happen to her.
He considered the question for a moment.
"That's my mother."
His younger brother stared at him.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he began wondering whether it was time to look for another job.
Thea took another sip of her drink.
So far, things were going rather well. Her little plan had worked, and her life was considerably safer now that Malcolm knew the truth.
The next question was what to do with that advantage.
Should she focus on becoming stronger?
There was a saying she remembered from her previous life: the poor relied on mutations, while the rich relied on technology.
And she was certainly in a position to take advantage of the latter.
She was the sole heir to Queen Consolidated and second in line to the Merlyn Group. Money and connections wouldn't be a problem.
Of course, she wasn't exactly Tony Stark.
Not yet, anyway.
She could start with martial arts training. That was an obvious first step. There was also Batman's technology to consider, assuming she could get her hands on anything remotely useful.
And then there was the Ant-Man suit.
It was a far cry from Stark's armor, but the technology behind it might offer some interesting possibilities. Perhaps she could use it as inspiration for something of her own.
Still, technology alone wouldn't be enough.
Tony Stark had trained his body as well. Even without his armor, he was capable of holding his own against dangerous opponents.
The Winter Soldier was another example of just how terrifying someone could become through physical conditioning and combat training.
And Oliver, at his best, wasn't all that far behind.
Well, except for the small detail that Oliver had spent years collecting scars, second-degree burns, and severe fractures. Roughly twenty percent of his body had apparently decided to become a permanent reminder of his adventures.
Thea glanced down at her own arms.
They were considerably thinner than Oliver's.
Was that really the aesthetic she wanted?
Probably not.
Perhaps the best approach would be to combine physical training with the development of an advanced scientific laboratory. If she could get the right equipment and the right people, she might eventually create something impressive.
There was also the possibility of developing some kind of special ability.
Though, considering how these things usually worked, that would probably require an extremely dangerous situation.
And she wasn't particularly interested in putting herself through one just to find out.
Her laboratory had already been under construction for six years. The original storyline had begun, and time was no longer something she could afford to waste.
Thea smiled faintly to herself.
Then she noticed someone watching her.
Her smile immediately twisted into something much less convincing.
From behind the counter, the owner watched the young girl sitting alone.
He had spent enough years in the entertainment business to recognize a particular kind of expression. Thea looked like someone who had run away from home, found herself in a bar, and decided that drinking was the best way to deal with whatever had happened.
There was something bitter about the way she smiled.
He couldn't help feeling sorry for her.
Whatever had happened at home, he hoped the girl would be all right.