He nods, catching her look. And some small part of him noting how the light catches her eyes. He shoves that thought away and focuses on how they talk. That look, he thinks, tells him she feels the weight of mistakes, too. One more way they are similar.

He hesitates, but then nods. "When I was... about ten years younger than I am now, I was a lot more foolish, a lot more arrogant. I did a lot of things without thinking how they would affect others, and hurt a number of people. And then, when on a cruise on a boat with my father, the ship was wrecked in a storm, and I was lost, alone, on an island, for most of five years. The island, and all I went through there, changed me, cut away a lot of who I had been, and made me a different man."

One hand dips below the table and put of his ever present bag comes the hood. Green fabric, cleaned and pressed many times, but still strong. It was a green hood and mantle, the top of his normal outfit, and he held it almost reverently.

"This was a gift from a mentor there, who taught me to be my own man, but more, to be a fighter, and one who always did his best to defend those who needed it, before all else." He nods to her and the puts the hood away again.

"In a way, the Oliver Queen who I had been died when the boat was sunk, and a new one was born."