3x01, Aruba-Con:
"I bumped into one of Rip's Time Agents a while back. He may have left his badge at my place."
"He... left it at your place?"
"Alright, maybe I lifted it off him in the morning."
I guess heads-up that there is implied sex in this chapter? Very off-screen, if you're okay watching Legends this should be more than okay. But I have done my due diligence and you are aware.
Outside, there's a chill and a biting breeze that makes Sara's skin tingle with a strange anticipation. It makes her want to chase someone across rooftops, with her hair down like it is in her White Canary suit, or maybe to be chased herself. By comparison, the too-warm interior of the coffeeshop is stifling and uncomfortable.
But today is a day for respectability. Felicity had let Sara stay in her apartment for two weeks before she got a job, and if an Arrow-crisis means she doesn't have time this morning to get coffee, then Sara owes it to her to get it for her. That, and they're friends, and Sara's not some ass who won't spent a free morning helping a friend.
So she waits patiently for them to call her name, swinging her legs over the edge of a stool, idly scrutinizing the others in the shop. There's a woman who's less-than-subtly checking out the barista, a group of several teenagers gossiping much more loudly than they think they are, an elderly man reading a book that seems, based on the curly font and the young woman in a huge dress on the cover, to be marketed for teenage girls. "Will!" is called, and a man steps forward to take his coffee. He's clearly on his way to work, carrying a small bag and wearing a cheap blue suit. Something about him catches her eye, the way he's fiddling with something small in his pocket, the slightly worn spot on his lapel. "Sara!" is next, and as she slides off the stool and heads over to the counter, she remembers where she's seen that style of suit before.
Instantly decided, she smiles to herself. She grabs the two cups, turns, makes an overexaggerated move to avoid colliding with one of the teenagers, and her elbow jostles 'Will.' His coffee tips, getting on her sleeve and dripping on his shoes, and she gasps. "I'm so sorry!" She brushes past him to get to the napkins, shoves them at him with an apologetic smile. "Did it get on you?"
"Hardly at all," he reassures her. He leans to wipe off his shoes, lingers a little too long, then smiles and heads for the door, tossing the used napkin in the trash on the way out.
Sara smirks at his back and opens her hand. A small pin lies there, pilfered from his pocket, and she turns it over. Sure enough, it depicts a globe with an hourglass in the middle, the words "Federal Time Bureau" running along the edge. She grins and jogs out after him.
By the time she gets outside, he's already halfway back. "Hi," he says, surprised, and Sara mimics his uncertain stance, delighted to see she's as good at this as she ever was. "I know this is really sudden, but can I have your number?"
She smiles back. "Only if I can have yours."
...
Three days later, sometime past midnight, Sara extricates herself from Will. He sighs and shifts slightly, but doesn't wake up, and she doesn't even bother to put clothes on before she starts snooping through his apartment.
It doesn't take her terribly long. In a locked drawer in his desk she finds a gun and some fun techy things: an advanced looking watch with complicated controls, a small white box with a dark screen, and a device with a grip, trigger, and short nozzle that vaguely resembles some Time Master device Rip once had. She decides against experimenting with them – with her luck it'll create a temporal loop or some such catastrophe – and instead checks his closet. Three identical blue suits, each with a pin with that stupidly obvious logo, and, sure enough, in one of the pockets, a key card. It's got an unflattering photo of him on one side, and on the back, a phone number, hours of operation and an address downtown conveniently labelled "Star City Field Office". And Rip considers these guys professionals?
"Sara?" a sleepy voice calls, interrupting her scorn, and she quickly slides the closet door shut.
"Needed to use the bathroom," she replies. "Be there in a second." Within a minute she has replaced the devices, relocked the drawer, stashed the keycard in her boot by the door, and congratulated herself on her stealth. Then she heads back. "And here I was thinking I tired you out," she calls, and is pleasantly reminded that this has been productive in more ways than one. They'll probably even continue their streak of incompetence and replace his key card without any questions.
And, even though infiltrating a government office sounds like an amazing diversion, that's not the point here. Sooner or later, the chance will come for her team to return to the Waverider. Now, when it does, she'll be ready.