Ray was sitting at a table, carefully lining up the sides of a chessboard; he bounced to his feet as Mick walked in.

"You came! Kendra and Sara were here," he went on rapidly as Mick took in the otherwise empty mess. "Then they went to play AlcoHunt. The first rule of AlcoHunt is 'You do not tell Rip about AlcoHunt.' In case you were wondering, the second rule of AlcoHunt is also 'You do not tell Rip about AlcoHunt,' while the third rule involves going limp - at least if you're Professor Stein."

He flashed a bright and completely unsympathetic grin. "Jax is trying to get Gideon to fabricate chips and dip that don't taste like gasoline and ennui. And hydrating. I'm not sure he'll be able to cure Stein's hangover that way, but I guess it's worth a shot."

"It's not some kind of setup," he finished awkwardly. "Is what I'm trying to say."

Mick considered the assorted pillows, the scattered games and empty glasses, and finally the earnest expression of the man standing anxiously before him. "Didn't think it was," he said with complete honesty.

"Really?" Ray's expression fell. "Not even a little bit? I guess there's something to be said for being voted least likely to stage a double-cross."

"You keep thinking that." Mick dropped into a chair. "Hunter said he'll be along. What did you blackmail him with?"

"Blackmail?" Palmer raised a hand to his chest, attempting to look both shocked and appalled at the accusation, but failing on both counts. "That's such an ugly word. Totally accurate, but I prefer 'put the screws on.' Although that could be the fifties talking. I think I can definitively say it wasn't a better time, but the movies were great. And I really liked the hats," he added wistfully.

"Haircut."

"Right, right." Ray shrugged and went back to setting up the chess board. "I told him he had to show up tonight or we'd seize control of the ship and go to Woodstock. The second one."

Mick raised an eyebrow.

"Prison changed me," Ray said solemnly. "Speaking of hardened criminals, Jax said Snart isn't coming. I guess he doesn't play games."

Mick startled into a rusty laugh; Ray looked shocked, then rueful. "Yeah, I'll rephrase that. I guess he doesn't play board games."

"Not anymore. One time we hid up for two weeks in some old library with a Keystone crew. No power and nothing to do except read and wait for the heat to die down. Day four we found a stack of old games, day five Monopoly took out three guys. He plays chess. Poker."

Ray blinked. "And you?"

"Plays me too."

"I meant - you know what I meant." Ray coughed, then grinned again, trying to play along. "I'm guessing he cheats."

Mick raised an eyebrow.

"Wait. Not … like … or, maybe like? Because, Sara said - there'd be nothing wrong with that of course, consensually, except where you nearly died and - I. Wow. Okay, I will now stop talking."

Snart always said messing with Palmer was too easy to be worth it; Mick disagreed. "He only cheats when people are expecting him to," he said. "Says it's no fun otherwise. What're the stakes?"

Ray followed his gaze to the deck of cards, waiting to be shuffled. "Well, cash doesn't mean much when Gideon can fabricate gold bullion. We could do chores, but practically everything is automated, and there's no risk playing for matchsticks. So we're betting stories. Ours, specifically. It's like Truth or Dare, with bluffing."

"So you took a good, cut-throat game and turned it into group therapy? I get why Snart said no."

"Yet you're still here," Ray pointed out, when Mick failed to show signs of leaving.

The chair was comfortable. Besides. "Do you think there's any truth I won't tell, just to watch Hunter squirm?"

"No," Ray admitted, smile fading. "I don't. Can I ask you a question?"

"If you win a hand."

"Poker isn't really my game. I have a tell." Ray winced. "By which I mean sometimes I get distracted and tell people my hand. I'm more of a Patience kind of guy."

"Fine, you answer my question too and we're square. Would you have stayed in the fifties? If you could have?"

Ray's smile faded completely, leaving something brittle in its place. "While there was nothing we could do, we made the best of it. But if I have to choose between Kendra and picket fences, I choose Kendra. Every time. Is this about twenty forty-six?"

The answer wasn't a surprise, how quickly Ray figured out the question's motive was. Too easy to forget there was a genius behind the Boy Scout, that under the grin and the hair was a man who wore armour. "That really what you want to ask me?" Mick deflected.

"Actually, I was going to ask if you're planning on killing us all, but I couldn't think of a subtle way to do it." Ray shrugged. "So I guess I'll ask what happens when we fight the Time Masters? We'll have to eventually. Unless Savage kills us first - we could all look forward to that instead. Do you know what will happen?"

"That's two questions," Mick pointed out, but he was feeling generous. "If - when - we fight the Time Masters, they'll be trying to kill me too. I don't know how this ends, but either way, we'll be on the same side. You died," he went on, careful not to make it a question.

"I do? Oh, you mean I did? Before? Yeah, but only a little. Gideon doesn't have very optimistic projections and Kendra's pretty determined. At least Sara and Snart were okay." He tilted his head back to look at the small black camera in the corner of the room. "Even though HAL over there was trying to kill them."

"I'm glad you all survived, Doctor Palmer," Gideon said from hidden speakers. "I was not trying to kill them."

"What kind of killer failsafe kicks in after the problem has been dealt with?"

"I didn't design the Waverider, Doctor. Or its systems. I simply inhabit them, much like yourself."

"Thanks," Mick interjected, before Ray could start arguing with a machine. "Chances are Snart turned on me because you saved him, but could be that's why he didn't kill me too."

"You two like to pay your debts." Ray picked up a pawn, twisting it in his fingers before carefully putting back in its square. "I know you got me out of the gulag because you thought you owed me."

"So?"

"So seeing as we let Snart maroon you, we're even, and I'm wondering which side the scales are on now? Are you with us because you think you owe us for not killing you in Nanda Parbat, or that we owe you for not killing us … every other time before then. What happens when no one owes anyone anything?"

"You think that's likely to happen any time soon? With this crew?"

"No." Ray's mouth curled in amused agreement. "Probably not."

"Rip hid the brandy too well," Sara announced as she and Kendra entered. "But we found the whiskey." They were flushed and slightly breathless, and both triumphantly holding a dust-covered bottle.

Ray stood and crossed to the glasses, pulling six into a line. "Where?"

"In the starboard vents." Kendra paused to shake some glittering particles out of her hair. "There were… obstacles."

"'It makes no logical sense! Why is it here? This episode was badly written!'" Ray looked around expectantly, then frowned. "Seriously. No one? If we survive Monopoly, I'm instituting a movie night."

"If you suggest Alien, I'm throwing you out an airlock," Sara promised.

"Galaxy Quest first. Then I was thinking Back to the Future. Maybe Terminator. Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. The … Time Traveller's Wife?"

"I think not, Raymond," Stein said, walking into the mess with the kind of slow care reserved for those with recent injuries or really bad hangovers.

Jax followed in his wake, hurrying him along with exactly as much sympathy as you'd expect from someone with a headache they hadn't earned. "What's with all the old movies? I vote Hunger Games. Team Katniss, man."

"Yes, because two hours of children slaughtering each other for the entertainment of the masses in a dystopian future is certainly the light, entertaining fare I look forward to of an evening."

"Actually, it's more like eight hours - there's four movies."

Stein slumped down into a chair. "Goody."

Kendra sat next to Ray and leaned into his shoulder as he poured the whiskey. "This is on you, you realize?"

"My bad," Ray said, unrepentantly.

The mess door closed and then almost immediately slid open again as Hunter strode in. "Where the hell is my whiskey?"

"Don't pout," Sara said, unruffled. "We poured you a glass. You can choose the first game."

Hunter stopped, jammed his hands in the pockets of his duster and scowled in Mick's direction. "Is it too late to request you turn us in to the Time Masters?"

"Should've thought of that earlier." Mick took the glass Ray handed him and stretched his legs out comfortably.

"Time Bandits!" Ray beamed.

Sara perched on the arm of Mick's chair as the others arranged themselves, squabbling like children over which game to play first. "You haven't talked to him yet."

"Been busy."

"I heard." Sara's eyes flicked to Kendra, laughing with Jax. "I have to say, as far as apology gifts go, that was pretty creative. Flowers and a thoughtful card are probably more traditional, but resurrection is how my family show we care too, so..."

"The League isn't family," Mick snapped. "And neither are we."

Sara raised an eyebrow, but didn't look particularly concerned by his tone. "I wasn't talking about the League, I was talking about my sister."

"The other Canary." He left it there, because this wasn't a conversation they should have. It shouldn't be him.

"We didn't always get on," she said, tone fond. "I stole her boyfriend and died. Came back, screwed up her life and died again. But we're in a good place now. Things work out." She frowned warily at something in his expression. "What?"

He ducked his head, stared down at the floor. Later, she'd ask why he didn't tell her. Later, he'd lie. Tell her he didn't know. Better that way. Better it came from anyone else at all. "Nothing. So, what? You think we'll work it out? He turned on me."

"Nyssa threatened my family to get me to go with her. She only backed off when she realised I'd rather die than go back to the League. And she's everything to me. Always will be. People like us, we define 'betrayal' a little differently. Loyalty too. Other things beginning with 'L.'"

"Don't go there, Blondie."

"Hey!" Jax called over. "We playing or we playing?"

"I've shared enough." Mick stood. Hesitated. "Independence Day," he suggested.

"I'm down with the classics," Jax said, nodding approvingly.

"Classics? " Stein protested weakly.

Mick left them bickering, their voices fading behind him as he walked the passageways towards Snart's quarters.