"For better or for worse."

The words seem to hang in the air for a few moments, and then silence falls again. After a minute or so, Ray gets up and, with one last sigh, heads for the door. After another, the big man—Mick Rory—rises and, with a grunt and an odd look at his friend, leaves too.

Sara, who'd taken her seat on the storage crate again, considers the sole remaining man in the cargo bay with her. She's not sure what to make of this Leonard Snart. Before she'd left, Oliver—who'd been talking to Ray—had insisted on telling her what little he knew about the pair of Central City criminals. Snart's a world-class-level jewel thief, he'd said, with any number of violent crimes to his name in addition to thievery. He'd tangled with the Flash any number of times, although Barry had apparently been oddly loathe to badmouth him.

Sara prefers, however, to rely on what she's observed herself: that Snart is good in a fight, isn't inclined to go charging in when asked not to, and yet not averse at all to helping when needed. And—her lips curve in a smile—he prefers watching to dancing. Not that she'd really minded that speculative, admiring gaze.

Made her feel…human.

He's staring off at nothing, now, gaze turned inward as he continues to balance his gun on his leg. For a man who's given every indication of being constantly aware of his surroundings, she almost thinks he's forgotten she's there.

Sara thinks back to Ray's words, spoken so bitterly a few minutes ago.

"…just a lost assassin…just a pair of good-for-nothing criminals…"

Rory had been unimpressed, tinkering with his gun and retorting a gruff "I can live with that."

But she'd been watching. She'd seen Snart's eyes close at the words, the tiniest of flinches. And she'd seen the spark when she'd spoken of changing their fates.

She tilts her head back a little, watching him a few moments longer, then speaks quietly."Leonard."

He blinks, then, and those blue eyes focus on her, a fraction of a second of honest surprise before she sees the cold cynicism creep back in, icing them over just as surely as a cold snap will a country pond. He tilts his head, regarding her, and she meets those eyes unflinchingly.

"Still here, Assassin?" he drawls. "After those fine words, I'd have thought you'd have marched back out to tell our noble…. captain… that you were all in. Changing fate, and all that."

The tone is chilly; the words, bitter. But Sara's seen past the mask, now, and she just smiles at him, with a little smirk to match his own.

She has never, she thinks, seen someone who wants to change his fate as much as Leonard Snart does. If he didn't, he wouldn't be here at all.

"What Ray said…" she says, meeting those icy eyes, "he doesn't know everything. Who we really are. What we might become."

If anything, those eyes harden even more. She doesn't mind.

She knows the truth.

"You don't know anything about me," he tells her shortly. "And you're a fine one to talk. What was it? A 'lost assassin?'" His eyes flicker insolently over her and then back to her eyes. "Are you honestly telling me you're anything other than a weapon to anyone on this ship?"

It doesn't hurt like it should, maybe because his eyes have already made it perfectly clear that he sees the woman. But she'll examine that some other time. For now, she needs to make a point.

And she does.

Her bo, drawn and whistling through the air before Snart can so much as flinch, comes to a precise stop just an inch from his head. She'll give him credit; he's as cool as can be, but she sees the widened eyes before he shrugs the mask back on and knows her point has been made.

"I've killed a lot of people, Snart," she tells him. "More than any crook, no matter how wanted or badass, trust me. You're tough. I'm worse."

She straightens, then, bringing the weapon back to her side, and shakes her head at him. "But I'm trying to be better. And I think that maybe…"

Leaning over, she meets his eyes from only a foot away, trying to project sincerity and evoke the connection she can't deny is there. "Maybe you are too."

With that, Sara turns and leaves the room, her decision made.

She leaves behind a crook who's more rattled than he lets on, both by the Time Master's admissions and the woman who's just walked out. And by the decision he's just made, as well.

For better, or for worse.