Oliver had seen her hang back in the shadows created by the drapes on the tents. At first, he passed her by, the night darkening her features enough that he felt like she was familiar, but nothing more. It was only when a server passed her by with a tray lit with candles that he saw her face clearly. Eyebrows raised high on his forehead and something in his chest swell: she was the first truly familiar face from Atia he'd seen since waking up in the temple. Oliver had never wanted someone to know him as her might would. He remembered well their time together on the island, and he truly hoped she would recognize him. Or that the pretty brunette scowling at the party was really Rose Hathaway.

Grabbing a new glass a wine for him and one for her, Oliver made his way to the brunette. He chuckled softly at the sight of the knife on her thigh: ever cautious, his Rose. Walking up to her, he offered the wine:

"Please tell me you are named after a flower and that you remember me? The alternative might just break my heart..." he said with a small pout. He took a sip from his wine before continuing on:

"If not, well I'm Oliver Queen, and I have to say that you look exactly like a good friend of mine. And that you are as gorgeous as she was."

Flattery. It would get him somewhere, yes?