"I do not know to what look you are referring," with all the coyness of a cat who'd eaten the canary.

Raisa fought against a smile, letting her gaze linger on the mirror for a moment longer. She disagreed with Oliver's decisions, yes, but she didn't challenge them to change his mind: quite the opposite, in fact. Oliver had doubts, painted across his aura as clear as day. That was unacceptable. Doubts served no one. He had chosen the path that he felt was right, and Connor deserved conviction on that front: every hesitation, every second guess, every falter diminished Oliver's commitment to that path, and indecision would only make things worse. If this was how Oliver chose to take these first steps with his son, then very well: but Oliver needed to be sure of himself, so that in due time Connor would be able to see that certainty as well.

For Oliver Queen? If he had doubts, there was no surer way to bolster his confidence than have him explain to someone why he was right.

A little flicker of warmth was added to the glance that was reflected back in his direction. "I am just the maid, Mister Queen. You do not pay me to judge."