Sara spreads a restless night, her imagination (and her body) informing her that she really should have seduced Len back at the hotel. She's really glad, she decides, that Thea is out of town. For one thing, her friend would have figured out something was going on immediately.

She's even gladder that she's managed to avoid Felicity since Len first showed up. She's confused enough about her feelings without the other woman making one of her typical, oddly perceptive guesses.

She gets the dress she has in mind out of storage in the morning (smirking to herself as she envisions Len's response), then, somewhat guiltily, gets coffee with her dad. She knows that while she's here, she should be spending more time with him, but...

They still can't help but remind each other of Laurel, even when they're trying not to. So much they'd usually talk about reminds them of her, and it's still too new, too raw, for even the innocuous—a comment about her favorite restaurant, a reference to a childhood memory-not to sting.

And so they sit at a table outside the café, and chat, and try to pretend they're not trying to feel their way across an emotional minefield.

She bids him goodbye with a few more prickles of guilt, knowing she's going back into danger tonight, hoping that their plan goes as smoothly as she and Len hope it will. Still, she knows her father hates Kay nearly as much as Laurel does…did…and he's always been proud of his girls and how they fight to right wrongs. This is just using new and even more nontraditional means. Right?

Sara makes it to the hotel early, then paces outside for a while, trying not to look too eager, either for the thrill of the game (she gets, now, why Len enjoys it so much) or the company. Still, she knocks on his door at 12:07 p.m., pleased when he opens it with alacrity, slipping past him to drop her bag onto the floor.

Leonard smirks at her as she spins to look at him, eyeing the bag and lifting an eyebrow at her. He's dressed casually again, in a gray T-shirt and jeans, and he looks…good. (She tells her still-interested libido to chill, no pun intended. It doesn't listen.)

"Yes, I brought the dress," she tells him, guessing the reason for the inquiring expression. "Yes, it's folded up in there. It's meant to be resilient, so don't give me that look. I'll take it out and hang it up if you'll turn around."

He's obviously wondering why he has to look away, but ostentatiously does so, presenting her with a broad set of shoulders, musculature clearly visible through the shirt in a way he rarely displays. (Down, girl.) Sara gives herself a mental shake, then removes the dress, smiling as the wrinkles shake out as the garment was designed to do, hanging it in the empty entryway closet before clearing her throat to signal that she's done.

Leonard turns slowly, smirk still in place. "Such secrecy," he drawls. "Now I'm curious."

"You'll see later." She grins at him. "Now. I was thinking about what you said about the cameras..."

They go over the plans again, then once more, picking over the same details and hashing out alternatives. Sara glances up at one point and sees Leonard perusing blueprints again, eyes laser sharp, thought lines etched between his brows.

In a world without Lewis Snart in it, she wonders, what could he have become? An engineer? An architect, an artist, a writer? Or was that restless, brilliant mind always bound to get bored, to turn to something outside the bounds of so-called normal life?

Not so unlike a bored and wild college student who'd run away with her sister's boyfriend and found herself on the path to becoming an assassin...

"What?"

Sara blinks, then focuses on Leonard again. He's smirking just a little and she realizes she's been staring, more or less right at him.

No point in pretending she hasn't. She lifts her eyebrows and smirks right back at him, surprised and just a tiny bit gleeful when he glances away, something more complicated than expected in his expression.

Hmm.

"Got any cards?" she asks casually. "We have a little time to kill."

He does, of course. For a little while, it's not so unlike some of those long, boring days in the time stream, when they'd sought out each other's company for a variety of reasons, starting with boredom and growing into actual camaraderie, occasional concern, and sincere friendship. Sara keeps sneaking glances at him, and knows he's doing the same, but they keep the talk mostly small, peppered with banter and the occasional (mostly joking) accusation of cheating.

Eventually, though, Sara can't help asking more.

"Why didn't you ask your sister to help with this?" she asks casually, pausing before discarding a card. "The heist, I mean. She has a lot more experience with this sort of thing than I do."

Leonard looks thoughtful, keeping his eyes on his cards. (Sara recognizes this as one of his tells, but doesn't mention it.)

"Lisa is...a wild card, sometimes," he says finally. "She knows what she's doing, but she sometimes goes off the boards. I think you see how why I'd need someone a little more disciplined for this." Now his eyes flick to hers, and there's a smile in them. "More or less."

Sara reaches out a foot and nudges him with it. "I can be a wild card," she tells him mildly.

"Mmm. Yes, but you won't unless the miss…the heist actually calls for it." He looks mildly annoyed at some memory. "I always expect the plan to go off the rails, but that doesn't mean I want to actively encourage it to happen."

Sara hums happily at the story that implies and nudges him again. "OK, Snart. Tell."

He spins her a tale of a detailed plan, months in the making, that'd fallen prey to his sister, a whim, a cute waiter, and…a pony. Sara can't quite tell if he's embellishing or how much, but the whole thing is so absurd that she can't help laughing, earning herself a look that tries to be irritated, but doesn't quite manage it.

In fact, he somehow manages to look downright pleased.

"I'm starving," she tells him, climbing to her feet. "Take-out again? What are your thoughts on sushi? I know a place."

Leonard Snart is remarkably unadventurous when it comes to sushi, so Sara takes great glee in ordering the most exotic, raw items she can, eating them with great gusto as he wrinkles his nose and eats a pedestrian California roll. They trade innuendo back and forth as they eat, then get serious again to pore over the blueprints and the plan one more time.

And then it's show time.


Sara'd grabbed her bag—and, when he'd turned his back, her dress—and vanished into the bathroom, leaving Leonard to shrug and change into his tuxedo in the main room. He's tucking a full set of lock picks (made of a nonmetallic material) into a sleeve and securing a few other items when he hears the bathroom door open.

He has a pretty good idea what's coming, given Sara's secrecy and smugness earlier, so he takes a deep breath and thinks of ice before he straightens his tie and turns around.

It doesn't help.

It's silver, her dress. Silver, and slinky, and slit up the side well past her knee. Oh, and cut down to…

Leonard clears his throat. "Nice dress."

Sara gives him the thorough once-over he'd been avoiding giving her, smirking at him openly. "Nice tux. Did you call for the car?"

"HmmMm. Any time now." Even being a student of the myriad ways Sara Lance could possibly hide weaponry in her outfits, he can't figure out how she's managed it this time. Maybe…

Realizing that he's now giving her that once-over, he clears his throat again and turns away to the computer and plans, not noticing the look of mingled exasperation and amusement on Sara's face. "I'll stow these, just in case. Remember, if something goes sideways, get…"

"Get out, and get the others to help break you out as needed." Her tone has laughter in it as she picks up the just-slightly larger than usual clutch that's sitting on the wardrobe. "I think you're getting used to having a steady backup crew, Len. But I hope it's not necessary. Can you imagine how gleeful Ray would be?"

He shudders theatrically, while acknowledging with a corner of his brain that he really likes the way she says "Len." "Perish the thought." Then, as his phone chimes an alert from the arriving town car, he turns and offers her his arm. "Shall we?"

Smiling, she takes it. "Let's go steal something."


Despite the shoddy planning with the invitations and what Leonard had been able to glean about the company now handling security for Kay, he's still pleased to find out that it's true. A pair of bored-looking guards watch staff members take their invitation and the sizable amount of money that is their "donation" and wave them in, turning to the next couple even as they stroll into the foyer. He scans the space as unobtrusively as possible as they cross it on the way to the ballroom, noting cameras and likely plainclothes guards and other guests, knowing as he does so that Sara is doing the same.

"Lazy, lazy, lazy," he hears her chant under her breath. "You were right."

"Hmmm. It's an odd oversight for someone like Kay." He frowns. "Or I should say, for his security chief. I wonder…"

"Well, it probably won't last long, so your timing is excellent." Her fingers touch his wrist lightly and he has to stifle a shudder. "In more ways than one."

What does she… "Timing is important," he drawls quietly as they step into the ballroom. "One doesn't wish to move…prematurely…"

"Of course, one can wait around too long as well."

He's saved from having to respond to that by the need to take in the space around them. A waiter hands Sara a glass of champagne, which she accepts even as Leonard waves one off, as they start to walk around the perimeter.

To all appearances, it matches the plans Smoak had given him. He nods to himself, glancing down at Sara, who's sipping her champagne as she watches the band and the glittering throng of humanity. After a moment, she glances up at him.

"So far, so…"

"…good." He nods. "Everything seems to be right. Once things truly get going and Kay is here, making his rounds and being his vile self, we can…but we probably have a little time first." Hoping his sudden attack of nerves—nerves! him!-doesn't show, he offers her his free hand. "Want to dance, Sara?"

Sara blinks at him, then grins and sets her glass down on a nearby table. She leans a little closer, even as she slides her other hand into his.

"I don't know," she murmurs. "It's not our song."

"We have a…" He remembers a bar in the '70s, a bar brawl and a jukebox sending up a spray of light. "Ah. Still."

He steers her out onto the dance floor, then pulls her closer, trying to walk the line between holding her close enough and too close. Sara seems to have no such reservations, sliding one arm around his waist, her right hand warm in his left. Her eyes sparkle at him as he looks down at her, and it's hard not to smile at the sight.

So he does.

"You're a good dancer," she says after a moment, giving him a thoughtful look. "Not what one usually thinks of as…"

"…a job skill in my line of work?" He smirks at her a little. "You'd be surprised. It's a good way to get close to people."

"And close to places where rich people tend to congregate." Sara's answering smirk tells him she gets it. Leonard turns her a little, starts maneuvering them toward the corner of the ballroom where they need to be, impressed as she easily manages the footwork despite the movement and the heels she's wearing.

"You know what you're doing too."

That earns him another look from under her lashes. "Well. If I have the right partner…"

No answer for that but to pull her a little closer as the band starts another song, a slower one. She gently tugs her hand from his so she can lay her palm flat against his chest. He covers her hand with his own as they sway together.

"Having fun?" he asks under his breath after a few moments.

"More fun than tending bar and waiting for a ship that might never come back." There's humor in her tone, so he doesn't take offense, although he pretends to.

"I think they call that damning with faint praise."

Sara runs her hand up and over his shoulder, letting her fingers stroke across the back of his neck, smirking at the intake of breath he can't entirely control. "Not really. I'm really glad you showed up, Len. I was starting to lose my mind." She lets out a low ripple of laughter that draws glances and smiles from the people around them. "And this is quite honestly the most interesting first date I've ever been on."

His eyes meet hers in surprise, but Leonard can't really refute her statement, so he doesn't try, glancing away and clearing his throat.

Trying to remind himself that they're here on...business...he lifts his head and scans the crowd and the room, checking for anything that stands out, just in case.

"Ah," he says after a moment. "And there's the man of the hour. And...OK, that's unexpected."

Sara glances over her shoulder, and they both watch as the large "Kay for City Council" banner is unrolled against the wall, leading to a spattering of somewhat hesitant applause from the crowd.

"Good word for it," she says quietly. "As far as I'd heard, this Kay was just as happy with a life of money making and blackmail. So what changed?"

"No idea." He frowns. "I don't like something about this."

Sara glances back at him, a clear question on her face. Leonard gives a quick shake of his head, though, and feels the muscles in her back relax, just a little.

Then she moves even closer, resting her head against his shoulder, arm around his waist tightening.

"Looks like we're wrapped up in each other, this way," she murmurs quietly. "No one will think we're paying much attention to anything else."

"Ah," is all he manages. "Right."

He has to keep an eye on Kay without appearing not to do so, however, so he keeps sneaking glances, tracking the man's path across the room and rate of speed. Finally, he simply rests his head against Sara's hair, turning her a little as they move, calculating and plotting.

"I've been watching the movement of the crowd," she says in a low tone, tilting her head up a little, warm breath on jaw making a shudder run down his spine. "You were right; it's like a school of fish with a shark in their midst." Glancing down, he sees her lips curl a little. "If the fish knew they had to make nice with the shark but wanted to avoid it anyway."

"Mmhm," Leonard says absently, still splitting his attention. "It's really quite easy to predict what most people are doing to do, if you watch the patterns. So boring…" Belatedly, he glances back down at her. "Present company included, of course."

Sara gives him an impish smile. "Is that a challenge, Len?" she whispers. "I'm not unpredictable enough for you?"

Every sense he has screams that this way lies danger. "Somehow," he tells her, starting to tense as the song begins to end, "I don't think that's ever going to be a problem."

He tracks Kay again, just as the musicians end the song with a flourish, and makes the call. Stepping back, he catches Sara's hand, raising it to his lips as she laughs, then giving her a tug toward a nearby hallway and starting in that direction.

They have a perfectly valid reason to be there: there are restrooms partway down along its length, closer to their current position than the ones off the foyer. And given their performance of two people who've apparently been availing themselves of the bar—and who are fairly wrapped up in each other—no one watching will probably look twice, except to, possibly, snicker.

But more importantly, the camera coverage in the corridor cuts off just after those bathrooms. According to all the records and Len's practiced eye, there's not a lot of dead space before the camera at the end of the hall picks it back up, but there is a single storage room, and that's where the next stage of their plan will kick into action.

The lock is the work of seconds. They duck inside unobserved. Sara immediately turns away from him, but glances back over her shoulder. "Unzip me?"

There's nothing but polite request in her voice and they're working on a timeline here, so Leonard reminds himself not to waste time in being even more distracted than he already is. He only gets a glimpse of skin before he quickly turns away, ignoring (or pretending to ignore) the sound of fabric shushing down to the floor.

Focus.

He hesitates, a moment, then resolutely strips off his suit and shirt, ill at ease even though he's not actually baring any skin. He's wearing his own jumpsuit under the night-black tux, so it doesn't take long, but Sara's whispering that she's ready not long at all after he is.

He turns just in time to see her turn, too.

It might not be the black leather he knows she'd once worn as the Canary, but the black silk jumpsuit, capable of being packed into even her smallish clutch, is still tight and sleek, even though it doesn't show much skin. Sara's kept her hair in the same updo of braids (one that uncomfortably reminds him of how it'd looked when they'd found her in Nanda Parbat), and she looks cool and deadly and completely professional.

Then she lifts an eyebrow at him as she balances while slipping one of the collapsible black flats over a bare foot.

"I envy you men your sensible shoes," she says drily, standing and stretching. "Although where you got soft-soled ones that looks just like dress shoes, I'd love to know."

"Long story." He watches as she carefully removes some of the underpinnings from her dress, sorting them into safety straps that she fits securely over the jumpsuit. "My, you have all sorts of clever toys..."

"You have no idea." She sends him a sultry look, then grins. "Good thing I kept a few things—besides weapons—from my League days. You have your safety equipment?"

"I do."

"Then let's get this party started."

Len gives her an actual grin in return, pulling a pair of thin black gloves on and letting a small, spherical device roll from his sleeve into his right hand.

"Here we go."