Night once again ruled Gotham, and neon lights bled pools of false brightness across the damp streets. Li Jie drove the weather-beaten police patrol van, carrying Oliver Queen and his companions silently through the city's tangled arteries toward Archie Goodwin International Airport.
The atmosphere inside was nothing like it had been on the way in. The newcomers' curiosity and faint sense of superiority had given way to solemn reflection. Oliver Queen leaned back in his seat, watching the bizarre streetscape fly past outside, but his mind kept replaying his brief, deeply uncomfortable final conversation with Bruce Wayne.
Despite a few minor misunderstandings at the start, the two corporate giants from opposite coasts had still reached several solid agreements on cooperation. Yet as they were about to part, he had heard Bruce Wayne say "my city" in almost every sentence.
He had accepted what Li Jie had told his other identity about the city belonging to its people, so Bruce Wayne's words grated on him. But when he tried to raise that point, Bruce neither agreed nor dismissed it. He simply looked at Oliver as though he were an idiot.
Bruce said nothing. He smiled faintly, then turned to speak with Lucius.
That silent response left Oliver more frustrated and inexplicably uneasy than any sharp rebuttal could have.
"...Sheriff."
At last, he broke the silence inside the van. "I have a question."
"Hmm? Go ahead, Mr. Quinn."
Li Jie kept his eyes on the road ahead and answered casually.
"Just call me Oliver. I read about the great man you mentioned, but..." Oliver hesitated before finally asking, "To you people in Gotham, is the idea that a city belongs to its people... laughable?"
The question made him feel a little ridiculous himself. He even sensed Thea and Diggle casting concerned