Oliver sucked the inside of a cheek between his teeth, mostly in an effort to stop an amused smile from fully forming as Connor dug himself deeper into a whole. All manner of opportunities for Oliver to deliberately act offended presented himself, on his own behalf or on Mal's. Was Connor suggesting that Oliver saw himself as too good to associate with the rest of humanity? Was he implying that Mal wasn't worthy of moving in the same vaunted circles? Could he twist things so it seemed like Connor was applying the label of 'moody meta' to the towering mechanic?

In truth, the speculation and deliberate misunderstanding was far more entertaining than the actual truth. The story of Mal and Oliver was the same as any other: an acquaintance who had become a friend. Oliver had sought him out, an expert in applied physics who had parted ways with his former employers at STAR Labs, after Queen Consolidated approached him with a job offer and Mal had - in his own words - told them where to shove it. Oliver had already begun to harbour suspicions about his family's former company, and Mal's shared animosity had made him a resource at first; his skills with technology, and the services he'd ultimately rendered to the Green Arrow had made him an ally.

Perhaps it would have been difficult to convey the sentiments of that progression without Oliver revealing more than he would have wanted to, but Connor quickly excused Oliver of the need to, abandoning his line of enquiry and shifting his questions to focus elsewhere. Oliver spent a moment contemplating the boy's reasons. Was it courtesy, a respect for Oliver's privacy and secrets from someone who would at some point hope to receive the same? Or was it surrender, or disinterest, the sign of someone whose attention span wavered quicker than Kid Flash at a free buffet?

Oliver allowed himself to complete a turn before he answered, steering them onto one of Gotham's smaller streets. Burnley, and Mal's garage were far behind them, as was the city's uptown island, and the residences of Coventry were giving way into the industrial structures of Red Hook. This was Bratva territory: the the Whisper Gang, the Ivgene Clan, the Odessa Mob, organised crime out of Russia and Ukraine who controlled the Red Hook docks, trafficking in guns, explosives, heroin, stolen goods, and sometimes stolen people, in part or in whole, to an extent that would make even the Triads and Yakuza feel a little squeamish. It was one of Gotham's most grim neighbourhoods, and yet it hid it well, behind the protective shell of warehouses and shipping depots, and in the shadow of the comparative pleasantry of the Gotham Village and Robinson Park.

They weren't here for the crime though, not exactly.

"Tyler Chemicals," Oliver offered, in answer to Connor's question. "They're a pharmaceutical company, founded in the Seventies, that Queen Consolidated acquired in a hostile takeover a few years back, and then almost immediately shuttered. That's not as weird as it sounds: probably just means that Tyler Chemicals had a patent or impending breakthrough that QC wanted, and buying the whole company wound up being a better deal than paying licence fees piecemeal."

He fell quiet again as the car drew to a halt, eased carefully into a hopefully inconspicuous parking spot alongside a worn and grubby abandoned warehouse.

"What is weird is that building over there," Oliver continued, with a gesture through the windshield. "According to city records, that building was an 'ancillary storage facility' for Tyler Chemicals, which I guess is just a swanky way of saying 'warehouse'. It should be abandoned, and Queen Consolidated doesn't list it as a line item on their facilities budget, and yet?"

Oliver dug into his pocket, pulling out what on the surface seemed to be a smartphone, albeit a somewhat clunky and boxy variation on the theme, rather than the sleek profile that a QPhone or Waynecom product might cut. A fingerprint scan and a pin code later however, and the screen that sprang to life was something very different: a map of Gotham City, covered in a web of colour coded lines and regions that intersected and overlapped. A few clicks, and most of them faded, leaving behind a thin red line and a modest area of effect superimposed over what presumably - if the little black you are here triangle was any indication - was the building that warranted their attention. Oliver presented it to Connor, almost triumphant.

"Someone has been paying the electric bill for the last few weeks, and they're using it to run wifi."

He shrugged, shifting a little in his seat to get more comfortable.

"Now, it could just be that Queen Consolidated has a security guard in there who spends his days watching Netflix and porn, or that they're redecorating the eleventh floor and needed somewhere to shove all that stuff... or it could be something else. Sorta seemed like a stakeout situation to me."