Sara's promised to finish out her shift, but otherwise seems quite happy to leave the bartending job behind her for a time to help him with whatever plan he's come up with. It's really been about keeping busy, she'd told him with a grin, and if she gets to put down the occasional bar brawl, that's even better.

She's just so obviously pleased, so sincerely happy to see him, that he's really regretting not showing up earlier. Maybe then he'd have thought of something better than a heist that has no basis in reality. But maybe this happiness has more to do with the promise of doing something, anything, than with his presence, he thinks a tad glumly as she watches her bantering with a few customers down at the other end of the bar.

Well. He can understand that.

Her breaks are becoming fewer as the crowd picks up, but she keeps returning to his corner when she can, refilling his drink (he'd switched to soda hours ago) and leaning on the bar to chat. They wrap references to their time on the Waverider in coded words that won't alert those around them to things like time travel and assassins and immortal psychopaths, grinning at each other when one or the other makes a particularly good reference.

"I'm here until closing tonight," she says with a sigh during one brief break, just as things are getting truly busy. "I'm sure you don't want to hang around that long…"

He would, actually, if she asked.

But he can take a hint.

"I can take off now," he says smoothly, rising from the bar stool and reaching for his jacket. "See you tomorrow?"

Is that a flash of disappointment in her eyes? But Sara nods and gives him a half-smile, then hesitates, moving closer.

"Whatever this is, Crook," she says in a low tone, "no one gets hurt. Right?"

He gives her a mock-offended look. She knows his feelings on that. "A heist in which there's violence is a poorly planned heist."

"I know. But…well…"

Cop's daughter. "Promise," he tells her, trying to convey his seriousness with the tone of his voice. "I'll give you more info tomorrow. Where do you want to meet?"

Sara looks thoughtful. "I'm staying with a friend," she says slowly. "So that won't work." She smiles a little, eyeing him. "I know too many people around here, and you're a bit too notorious, to make this really convenient," she says with amusement. "You sure this is a good idea?"

In for a penny. "Positive." He gives her a look through his eyelashes. "Notorious, huh?"

She leans close…close enough to make him inhale sharply, something she can't possibly miss…and then grins again. "Extremely."

She takes a step back as he tries to look like he's not composing himself. "There's a park down by the waterfront. Meet you about noon? It's not like either of us is a morning person."

"That works." The more time he has to figure out what he's doing here, the better. "I'll bring coffee."

"My hero."

She laughs at the look he gives her before he leaves.


Sara's humming to herself when she turns back to the bar, her heart lighter than it's been in a while. She's still smiling while serving a bunch of the usual suspects—the man older than her father whose fingers she'd had to threaten to break the first night she was here (but only once), the pairs of "bros" she's pretty sure are secretly dating, the giggling just-barely 21s she keeps a keen eye on.

And when she turns around again, Maria is standing there, watching her with a knowing smile.

"You know," she comments to the younger woman, "you just lost me a bet with myself. I'd wagered myself a new pair of heels that you'd be goin' home with that young man."

Despite another twinge of regret, Sara can't help but laugh at the thought of Leonard's reaction to being called "young man." "He's a former...co-worker," she tells Maria breezily. "Needs some help with something. A friend."

"Mmhmm. You didn't see the way he was watchin' you when you weren't looking," the older woman says shrewdly, turning to hand off a beer. "That's not how 'just friends' look at each other."

Sara snorts. "I'm wearing tight jeans," she reminds her friend. "He has eyes."

"That's not what I meant."

There's something in Maria's tone that makes Sara stop, even in the middle of the chaos of the bar, and stare at her.

"That man looked at you like you were water, and he hadn't had a drink in weeks," the waitress says, leaning on the bar, nostalgia in her voice and a certain understanding. "And I don't mean 'cause of the jeans, although I'm sure that helps. I remember my Elena looking at me like that, way back when. Not that she doesn't still, sometimes, but..."

"It's not...

...for me...and you...and me and you...

"...like that," Sara finishes lamely. "If he wanted to..."

You want to steal a kiss from me, Leonard? "

"...he'd have said..."

You'd better be a hell of a thief.

Sara sighs. "It's busy," she tells the other woman, "I have to get back to work."

Maria watches her younger colleague move down to the other end of the bar and shakes her head before heading back into the Friday night fray.

"And you, honey," she says with a sigh, gathering a tray full of drinks, "you looked at him just the same."


Research into the leading Star City museums comes up empty. Leonard frowns at the screen of his laptop. There are valuables there, sure, but none of a level of uniqueness that would really tempt him. He doesn't think a heist of mere monetary value is really going to impress Sara, anyway, and frankly, these days it doesn't really interest him either.

Which leaves stealing something useful, unique, valuable in a nonmonetary way…or at least valuable in more than a monetary way. But what…and why…

He leans back in his chair and stares at the screen, a memory-and faint tendril of inspiration—rising. Yes…yes, that could work.

But he still needs something to steal. And there's no way around it: with this sort of timeframe, he's going to need to ask for help.

Leonard sighs, picks up his phone, stares at it a moment, and then sighs again and dials a number.

One ring. Two.

"Hello?"

"Scarlet," he says, keeping his tone businesslike. "I need a favor."

A long pause. Then: "Snart?" Barry Allen says, his tone mystified. "Where are…what kind of favor?"

"Who's someone in Star City who deserves to be stolen from?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Leonard rises from the desk, strolls over to the windows in the hotel suite. "I need to find someone in Star City with information to steal. Information they don't want anyone to have. A 'bad guy,' to use your simplistic terminology."

"I can't help you steal." Barry sounds appalled. There's the faint sound of traffic in the background; he must have left wherever speedsters hang out on Friday nights and gone outside. Good. "And it's not exactly my territory anyway."

"But you know people here."

"Yeah, well, so do you!" A beat. "Wait. You're in Star City?"

"Do not tell Mick. Or Raymond."

"Ray would probably know someone, you know." Barry sounds a little less appalled now and a little more amused. "Or you could ask Sara Lance. She lives there, you know."

The kid can't see him, but Leonard rolls his eyes anyway. "Yeah, yeah," he drawls, trying to keep his voice uninterested. "Come on, I'll owe you a favor. There's gotta be someone here who could stand to be taken down a few pegs…or just be taken down. I just need a lead."

"Why?"

That gives him pause. "I can't tell you."

"Then no deal."

There's a little steel in the kid's voice. Leonard's impressed.

"Look," he says, wheedling a little. "I've already promised that no one gets hurts on this…job. And you know the sort of people I mean. The rich, the powerful, the ones that think no one can touch them. There's got to be someone."

Barry sighs. "Look," he says, and Leonard can hear him starting to cave. "I'm sure there is. But I don't know who I could…"

He stops, the wheels nearly audibly turning.

"Spill it."

"OK, OK." Barry says slowly. "I do know someone. I'll ask if…if they know anyone who'll fit the bill. I can't guarantee anything. When do you need it by?"

"Tomorrow morning. As early as possible."

"What!? Snart, you do realize it's past 11 p.m…."

"I'll owe you one, kid. Thanks." Smirking, he hangs up on Barry's protests and stretches, then heads back to the computer.

He may have walked into this without a plan, but he'll be damned if he doesn't know Star City as well as he can by the next time he sees Sara.

Time to do some studying. And thank god for Google Maps.


The people strolling in Star City's Galleria Mall might be forgiven if they, consciously or unconsciously, move to veer around the bespectacled blond woman who's muttering to herself as she stalks through the building's main concourse, cup of coffee in one hand, the other clenched in a fist. None of the stores are open yet, but the mall walkers and mommy-and-me groups are out in force, and she weaves through them like a woman on a mission, grumbling as she goes.

Eventually, she selects an unoccupied bench at the opposite end from the food court, one of the quieter locations at the time. Still, anyone who ventured down to that end of the mall might hear the odd word of profanity, mixed in with "Barry" and "Allen" and "owe me." After a few moments of peering suspiciously around, she opens her cup of coffee and takes a long drink, sighing as caffeine hits bloodstream.

And that's when a tall man, dressed impeccably in jeans and a dove-gray button-down shirt, drops into the seat next to her.

"Good morning, Ms. Smoak," he drawls. "You're looking well."

Felicity, whose first impulse is to slap him and whose second impulse is to reach for the Mace in her purse, can't restrain a tiny yelp of surprise, followed by a defensive slide to the other end of the bench. The man in question, however, doesn't react, simply leaning back on the bench and smirking at her.

"Leonard Snart. Goddamnit, Barry. You could have..." Then she stops and narrows her eyes at him. "What are you doing in Star City? Does Sara know you're here?"

Snart, to her surprise, promptly loses the smug smile and blinks at her.

"What?" he says blankly.

"Sara. Sara Lance," Felicity shoots back impatiently. "I know you know her; she's talked about how you traveled together. Tried to tell me you weren't a bad guy. I thought you... you Legends... were a team; if you came all this way and haven't..."

"She talks about me?"

Snart, apparently, is still hung up on her earlier words.

And just like that, it starts coming together.

Felicity bites back her ire and eyes him speculatively, then shakes her head. "Barry didn't tell me you were the one who wanted information," she says, ignoring his question. "He's going to pay for that. But I managed to put together what he asked. And...noooo..." She raises a hand as he starts to say something. "First, I want to know why you want this. And you can't just talk me into it like you did him, buddy. Barry's too nice for his own good some days."

Snart glares at her. She glares back.

He's far less intimidating with Sara's words about cards games and bar brawls and chubby-cheeked babies in mind, she decides while glaring. And he is a damned fine-looking man, if you don't have to worry about the whole cold-gun-pointed-at-you thing.

Finally, he sighs, tilting his head to the side, a long-suffering expression on his face. Felicity folds her arms and waits.

"I need to plan a heist," Snart says finally. "Something out of the ordinary. And no, I'm not telling you why, but I've already promised no one will get hurt. I just need a good target. Someone who deserves a...comeuppance, if you will."

Felicity studies him a moment longer, frowning. She's pretty sure he's telling the truth, as far as it goes, but the lack of reasons bugs her. Why isn't he in Central City—a city he allegedly knows like the back of his hand-to pull off his mystery heist? Why Star? Why is the heist itself what matters most?

And...

And he never said Sara didn't know he was here.

Felicity's mouth drops open and she stares at him, the pieces falling into place in her head.

"That's it!" she breathes. "You're doing this to impress Sara!"

Snart's eyes widen, but he doesn't immediately retort, which Felicity takes as confirmation of her wild guess. "That's it! I'm right, aren't I?" She sets her coffee down, clapping her hands. "Aww, does Captain Cold have a crush?"

The crook opens his mouth, closes it. Felicity grins. "No, more than a crush." She tilts her head, considering him. "You…

"Enough."

Snart's voice is quiet enough, intense enough, that she actually listens, startled out of her amusement by his tone. He looks her right in the eyes, then glances away and shrugs.

"Do you have the information, or not?" he mutters, "because if not, I have better things I could be doing with my time."

He couldn't have confirmed it more if he'd shouted "I've fallen for Sara Lance" from the rooftops. Felicity takes a deep breath, then nods, opening the fingers of her left hand to show him a USB flash drive.

"This is everything we have on Steven Kay, one of Star City's top tycoons." She nods as Snart's eyes narrow. "I see you've heard of him. Pardon my language, but he's a real dick. I'm pretty sure he's all about the blackmail, but it's not easy to prove, and...the Green Arrow...can't go after everyone..."

"Yes, I'm sure he's very busy." Snart smirks at her in a way that makes Felicity uncomfortably sure he knows exactly who the Green Arrow is, then frowns at the drive. "So, if you have the information there..."

"This is just background information on him, his business, and his building, along with some past suspicions and allegations. He keeps his black book in hard copy." Felicity glares at the drive herself. "It's very irritating. The book is, from what I'm told, locked in his penthouse office in the Kay building downtown. Lots of security, etc., etc. That's what you want."

"So, not only is that likely enough to take Kay down, but also lots of his rotten big-business buddies, because this guy's not going to bother with pocket change," Snart muses. "Yeah. Yeah, that works."

He lifts an eyebrow at her and extends a hand. Felicity sighs, then reaches out to hand over the drive ...but pauses.

"And once you have the black book," she asks sternly, "what are you going to do with it? 'Cause the selling-it-to-the-highest-bidder thing, it doesn't work out well. This could do a lot of damage in the wrong hands."

Snart's mouth twitches, perhaps at the notion he could be considered the right hands. Still, he nods at the question, allowing her the point.

"I have...a friend. Well, a friend of my sister's. Who has a team. They provide..." He thinks it over a moment, then cocks his head at her, "...leverage."

Felicity's mouth forms a startled little "o" and she stares at him another minute. Then she nods back.

"I...might know something about that," she admits slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, that's a good place for this. You'd give it to them? Promise?"

"Does my promise actually mean anything to you?" He's expecting scorn in response, but Felicity gives him a long look, then shrugs.

"If only because of Sara," she says. "Whatever else is going on with you two, I think you care about what she thinks. And if you know her at all, you know not to really piss her off, or you might wind up with a bad case of dead or maimed."

She reaches out, then, and drops the drive into his outstretched hand. Snart pockets it smoothly, then rises, giving her an enigmatic smile as he does so.

"You won't tell..."

"No." Felicity rolls her eyes. "Not unless I have to for some reason. So don't give me one, OK? Sara likes you, though I haven't the foggiest idea why. I'd hate to mess that up."

Snart nods, seriously, but then the familiar smirk reappears.

"Well, then," he drawls, turning away. "Nice doing business with you, Ms. Smoak. My regards to the mayor."

Felicity watches him saunter off into the mall, shaking her head, then grins smugly as she takes a sip of her coffee.

"Still the age of the geek," she quips happily, "baby!"