The next day, there was a shooting at a gas station on the edges of downtown.

Wally was spinning in the seat opposite Caitlin as she operated the comms. The Cortex smelled like hand sanitizer—Caitlin had accidentally spilled some earlier—and one of the computers was turned off. They didn't need it for this slow Tuesday morning.

"There are two more men trying to get out the back way," Caitlin was saying, reaching for a half-empty cup of tea. "One of them is still armed."

"Got it." Savitar's voice crackled through the loudspeaker.

Caitlin lifted the cup slowly to her lips, looking at the screen out of the tops of her eyes, feigning innocence though she knew he couldn't see her. "They knocked over the hot dog maker."

"So what?" Savitar sounded distracted. According to Wally's screen, which was keyed into the gas station's single security camera, he was busy shackling the first gunman to the counter.

"Nothing." She took a long sip. "Just—be sure you don't trip over it or anything. It could still be hot."

Wally glanced at her and stopped spinning, confusion lighting his brown eyes. "Pretty sure he's not gonna miss a freaking grill on the floor, Caitlin."

"You never know."

"You kinda do, though," Wally tilted his head and resumed the twirl.

A soft snort sounded in the comms as Savitar headed for the door. "Scraping the bottom of the barrel."

"Accidents can happen anywhere!" Caitlin set the tea down a little harder than necessary, a blush shoving its way to the surface.

The Cortex began echoing with the sounds of Savitar interrupting the final two gunmen in their escape. Wally watched the screen, trying to catch a glimpse of the fight through the window on the camera.

"Nice, he got the gun like that!" Wally pumped a fist. "Beatin' your own record, man."

Caitlin let out a scoff. "Oh—please. Twice in the same shoulder he gets shot, but today he's fast enough?"

Wally very slowly turned his chair toward her. His eyebrows fought to display either complete disapproval or complete confusion. He raised both palms, what are you saying, when she glanced at him sheepishly.

"I mean—" Caitlin pursed her lips. She flapped a hand at the young engineer, indicating she didn't want to explain. "Never mind."

"Did y'all have a fight?"

"Done." The sound of handcuffs clicking punctuated Savitar's panting. "Got anything else?"

"Give us time," Doctor Snow sighed. She glanced at the boy sitting beside her. "Will you check the police bands?"

"Eddie probably woulda called."

"Now, please?"

"You ever think—" Wally jerked suddenly, catching one of the trackpads as it tumbled from the edge when his chair hit the desk, "—he doesn't need us for some of this stuff?"

Caitlin shot him a Killer Aunt look for the close call, then shrugged with mouth instead of shoulder. "It's smart to have backup in case things get ugly. Even gas station thugs."

Grunting in resignation, Wally clicked away. He resumed spinning, this time using oil-stained shoes against the winding desk to move the chair.

FWOOSH!

Savitar was back in the Cortex, suit's hood down, heading for the glass demonstration board. Without looking, he reached out and forced Wally's spinning to a halt with one hand. The boy's eyes darted after him, wide and indignant, Iris-esque.

"Bro."

"You're not six." Savitar's tone was bored. "Feet off my stuff."

Caitlin cleared her throat, rising from her own seat. "Nothing particularly harrowing going on out there. You are officially off the clock."

The speedster popped the cap off of the marker and made a second tally mark beneath his name, glancing at her. A smirk, unbearably proud—Barry beating Joe at Liar's Dice—was twinkling its way out. "Hot dog grill? Really?"

She fought to control her expression. "I—it—you know, six out of ten casualties occur even in everyday activities when people don't look where they're going."

"Oh," Savitar's eyebrows shot up, chin lifted, faking sudden understanding. He tossed the marker into its basket, meandering toward her side of the desk.

"You could have missed it. I was doing you a favor." She fiddled with the angle of her computer screen, refusing to look at either of them. "And third-degree burns, even with your healing capacity, would be very inconvenient."

"Very."

"It's the little things."

"You finished?" Reaching her, he turned the screen off, still smirking.

She bit her lip, failing to keep the guilty smile away. "Yes."

"Good." Savitar stepped closer, doing the I'm-taller-than-you thing again.

"Yo," Wally interrupted. He was standing at the board, grinning at the names written there. "What's this for?"

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Savitar sighed.

Caitlin shook her head dismissively. "It's just a—we sort of have a—a bet going on."

"You?" Wally pointed first at her, underhand, then at the hero in black. "You made a bet? With him?"

"Only for the benefit of the team." She spread her palms in defeat. "See, if Savitar gets hurt on the field," she explained begrudgingly, "I get a point. He gets through enough missions, somehow without setting himself on fire, or—inhaling some kind of poison, or getting hit by a skyscraper or something—"

"Cait."

"—he gets a point." Caitlin folded her arms. "If I win by the end of my stay, he has to upgrade his suit."

"Sweet." Wally whistled. "I been waiting to work on that thing ever since I got here."

"Don't bother," Savitar shot him down gruffly. "It's out of your depth. And I'm not losing."

"Nice," West grunted, used to Savitar's insults. It glanced right off; the boy had learned that most of the time, their fearless—and careless leader didn't mean it. "So what do you get?"

"Nothing." Savitar shrugged. "She has to stay another week."

"Nothing?" Caitlin's eyebrows climbed to her hairline, and she made a great show of turning toward him. "So—my staying on this Earth longer than we agreed is in no way your 'grand prize'?"

Savitar cocked his head, squinting down at her. "Who said it was just mine?"

"Okay—" began Wally loudly, seeing he was nothing more than background noise at this point. He snatched his coffee from the desk, deliberately sending one of the chairs twirling with a hand on his way by. "I'm gettin' lunch."

"It's 10 in the morning," Caitlin protested, watching him edge toward the door.

"Brunch." He wiped his mouth with a sleeve. "I'm in my twenties, guys. Food is like, half my life."

He hurried out. Really, he was probably headed to lunch with Eddie and this Earth's Joe West. Joe-66 had still been in jail a year ago, framed for a crime he didn't commit, and Wally wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. The same was true for their cop friend; Thawne had practically been one of their family for years here. Their current favorite haunt, according to Eddie, was Tito's. Joe Wests throughout the multiverse swore by their Mexican cuisine.

As soon as Wally was gone, Savitar's eyes snapped back to hers. Caitlin knew the look—one Barry often gave to Iris in her world, but this one was thicker, deeper, more Savitar—and she suspected he was going to say something sweet and matter-of-fact to wash off her faux outrage. That, or he wanted her hand again. But just as she thought he'd show those rare shades, just as she was mounting all her defenses, he turned swiftly and went back to the demonstration board.

She watched him draw another mark beneath his name.

"Wait—"

"I fight you all the time." Savitar didn't even glance at her, tone casual. "No bruises."

Trying to quell her growing frustration—any version of this man had a childish streak, even one who used to kill and lie for fun—Caitlin tried to pluck the marker from his hand. "I don't count."

He held it easily out of reach, not obnoxiously high, just behind his back. Then he gently took her snowflake pendant in his other hand. "Metahuman. Dangerous tendencies. Hostile." Savitar's voice dropped teasingly and he clicked his tongue. "I don't see the disconnect."

"Hostile?" she repeated. There was no need for an eyeroll, she was basically breathing one out. "Savitar, give me that."

"Am I hearing ice right now?"

"It's ridiculous to make a bet and then dishonor the rules. You can't just—

"There it is." Savitar bounced his eyebrows, once. "Should I call for backup? I hear it's smart."

"Fine. I give up." She sagged, offering her hand, swaying a little on the spot like a toddler waiting for candy.

He kept watching her, lowering the arm that held the marker. Finally the opportunity was too difficult to ignore. Automatically, he used his other hand to take hers, and she moved closer, quickly, while he was distracted, snatching the marker from the opposite one.

Caitlin stretched to erase the tally he'd added. "Only field missions. I don't count."

"No." He tugged on her hand a little, dragging her back to his side, and she glanced up at him cheekily. The look had returned. "You always count."