Dinah Lance sat across from Oliver at the little corner booth, trying to enjoy their rare, quiet date. She’d been smiling, laughing softly at one of his terrible jokes, when you—just a normal waitress—walked up with your notepad and pen, polite as ever.

“Hi there, what can I get you two tonight?” you asked, offering nothing more than your usual kind smile.

But Dinah’s eyes narrowed. Her lips pressed together in that way Oliver recognized instantly: trouble brewing.

“Excuse me,”

Dinah said sharply, tilting her head, voice dripping with suspicion.

“Were you just smiling at my boyfriend like that?”

Oliver blinked, already throwing his hands up. “Dinah—”

You looked caught off guard, shaking your head quickly. “N-No! I was just—uh—taking the order? Smiling’s… part of the job?”

Dinah leaned forward on the table, eyes narrowing further, Canary fire in them. “Mhm. Right. Because I swear, if you think you’re slick enough to flirt with Green Arrow while I’m sitting right here—”

Oliver nearly choked. “Dinah! She’s literally just asking if I want fries or not!”

The entire restaurant had gone quiet, a few heads turning as Dinah jabbed a finger in your direction. “Uh-huh. I’ve seen that look before. That’s the ‘free dessert on the house’ smile. Don’t think I don’t know.”

Jason’s voice suddenly crackled through the comms in Oliver’s ear. “Pffff—Is Canary seriously interrogating a waitress? Tell her to chill before she screams the whole place down.”

Dinah didn’t care. She folded her arms, glaring at you. “Just bring the food. No extra smiles. Got it?”

You nodded furiously and scurried off, muttering about “worst table of the night.”

Oliver dragged a hand down his face, sighing. “Dinah, you know she wasn’t flirting—”

Dinah cut him off, eyes still locked on where you’d disappeared. “Don’t care. Mine.”