The next night was family dinner, which never meant just the Queens; the Diggles, the Harpers, the Fletchers, and Police Chief Lance were always invited, and they always came. What was just as constant was the atypical dinner conversations.

"…There's usually a spike in the homicide rate this time of year, but it's still weird." Lance rambled over his plate of lobster alfredo. "I mean, what's with these gunless murders? People use guns. People like guns. It doesn't take much talent to shoot a guy standing in front of you. But no, there're killers out there exhibiting skill. Found a guy with a snapped neck and another with a slit throat. Oh, and you kids need to know about the guy we found in a dumpster a couple hours ago—"

"Dad," Mrs. Fletcher said reproachfully. "We're eating. And I don't think the kids need to hear any of that."

He raised his big gray eyebrows. "Laurel, that Barbie-doll-lookin' thing down there puts on fishnets and beats the crap out of people. The barely pubescent boy to her right routinely hacks government databases. That college freshman has handled a rocket launcher. This little dumplin' over here is going to take up her mother's mantle in two years. Oh, and my own grandson is set to be the next Arsenal within ten years. Are you really gonna tell me these kids can't handle a little homicide?"

The whole table tried to keep from laughing, Mrs. Fletcher included.

"They do need to hear about this one, though." her husband agreed. "The guy went to Starling High." That sobered the table up somewhat.

"Who?" Rosie asked, her mouth full of noodles.

"Jaleb Hempy," Lance answered.

"I didn't do it!" said Danny reflexively.

Mr. Queen's eyes narrowed. "Why would anyone think that?"

"They fought at school yesterday," Penny blurted. "No biggie."

"A fight fight? Over what?" Mrs. Queen wondered. "The son of a cop can't go around picking fights."

"I didn't pick it!"

"He didn't." Tommy defended.

"But it was an actual fight, wasn't it?" she questioned. "Because that busted lip sure has me convinced."

"Danny, why would you fight in school?" asked Mrs. Diggle.

"Leave him be, Lyla," said Diggle. "He's young but he's smart enough not to do that without good reason."

"Yes, and it was a very good reason that we can all empathize with. So let's leave it at that." Laurel answered curtly. The other adults nodded and Lance resumed talking.

"Anyway, he really pissed someone off. His tongue was ripped out and then shoved down his throat. The kid choked on his own tongue and blood."

"EW." stated Digglet.

"Yep. There were defensive wounds—bruises, scratches—but it was clear that he didn't stand a chance. And Hempy's demolished pink moped was found on top of him."

"Didn't do it," Danny muttered.

"We're thinking it's drug-related," said Captain Fletcher. "Apparently he dealt that variation on vertigo."

"Dizzy," Penny elaborated with a nod. "Yeah, he tried to sell me some once."

"Either he said something he shouldn't or knew something he shouldn't." Lance shrugged. "Dumb kid probably got cocky. Got a bunch of misdemeanors on his record proving he liked trouble. Honestly, I feel worse for his mother."

"I don't know if he deserved to die, but yeah, he was a major douchebag." said Rosie.

Mrs. Queen's phone rang, which was very much against the rules during family dinner. When she saw that it was her cousin, she knew she needed to answer.

"I am so sorry," she apologized. "But this looks important." She stood up and gestured for her husband to follow.

"Hilford, this better be important." she said once they were in the other room.

"Well, I should've told you a few days ago, but we've been running down leads. I thought you might want to know that you were wrong."

She put her phone on speaker. "About what?"

"Nyssa wasn't 100 percent lesbian. At least not for the past three years."

Felicity exchanged a look with her husband.

"I'm sorry what?" Oliver said.

"Oh, hi," Hilford responded, just realizing Oliver was there. "Yeah, she had a guy. Nyssa's always been under surveillance even though we never target the leaders because power vacuums are too messy, and there's a guy. Sorry you didn't know, Felicity, but you've been a reserve member for the past ten years which means you only know what we feel like telling you."

"Nyssa had a dude," she said to herself in shock.

"Nyssa had a dude." her husband echoed in confirmation.

"A young dude, too. He accompanied her on most of her European missions since December of 2030, when she bought him from Comtesse Bécu—"

"Woah," Felicity interjected. "Hold up a second. She bought him from—"

"Europe's most notorious Madam." Oliver finished.

Hilford sighed. "Yes. Now will you let me talk? His name is Alexander Deering. Comtesse imported him from England for her. All we have on him is his escort profile, so he might've been sold into this business at a young age. Then again, maybe he was bred into it, judging by his profile. It's not like we need to know everything about Nyssa's European piece anyway."

"And it didn't occur to you that she picked him for a reason?" Oliver remarked. "If she had the same guy for the last three years, then he had to be special to her."

"Right. Let me just send you the profile."

A second later, the picture popped up.

"Huh," Oliver nodded in understanding.

Felicity cleared her throat. "That is a handsome young man. I can see why Nyssa made an exception."

Her husband scanned the profile. "Born January 2013, Six foot two, speaks seven languages—"

"Has a jaw carved by Michelangelo himself," added Felicity.

"It doesn't say that."

"It should say that."

"Are you ogling him?"

"Oliver, I'm old enough to be his mother."

"So was Nyssa."

"Ok, I'm going to go now." announced Hilford. "Should I send the surveillance photos? Felicity sounds like she wants them."

Her husband raised his eyebrows at her. "Well, do you?"

She thought about it long and hard. "Yes."

"How dare you."

His wife rolled her eyes. "Don't look at me like that. It's still weird, isn't it? I get Nyssa making an exception once, but for three years? Something's off."

"Maybe she really liked his jawline." taunted Oliver.

"Well maybe she did," she retorted.

"Ok I'm sending them bye." Then there was a click and the Queens were left to bicker as they came back to the dining room.

"What were you guys fighting about?" Tommy asked when they sat down.

"Your mother is a cougar," Mr. Queen answered so the whole table could hear.

"No, I am not."

"Are to,"

"I guess you're right, because apparently I married a twelve year old."

"Who's he jealous of this time?" quipped Mrs. Harper.

Mrs. Queen enjoyed the look of betrayal on her husband's face. "Someone named Alexander Deering. Honestly, I gave him one compliment—"

"Two,"

"… Do you see what I'm dealing with here?"

"Ollie, you're such a child."

Mrs. Queen's phone chirped, signifying that all of the surveillance photos had uploaded.

"You gonna look?" challenged Mr. Queen.

"No," she responded innocently. "But I really want to text Sara. She's gonna freak."

"So this is a Fury thing then?" asked Connor.

"Is Alexander Deering a hot young assassin?" Penny questioned eagerly.

Lance had a much better question. "What does he have to do with Sara?"

The Queens looked at each other and the Mrs. shook her head. But her husband answered anyway.

"Alexander Deering was Nyssa's whore."

The scandalous word hopped around the table, accompanied by laughs and gasps and the questioning of Nyssa's sexuality.

"How old is he?!" most of the table asked.

"Barely legal," Mrs. Queen was pretty miffed that her husband so eagerly volunteered the information, however attractive she found his cocky grin.

Mr. Harper raised an eyebrow. "And you were checking him out?"

"I only complimented him—"

"Twice,"

She paused to kick her husband under the table. "And I didn't mean anything by it. I'm fully aware that I'm old enough to be his mother."

"And so was Nyssa." Mr. Queen added. "And she was probably fully aware of it herself."

Mrs. Queen opened her mouth to speak, but then she froze when something occurred to her. "Oh… you know what, you might be absolutely right. Not about this thing. I mean another thing. That thing you said that I didn't—never mind, I'll tell you later. Tommy, I'm going to need to talk to Damian after dinner."

"But Grandpa said you couldn't talk to Damian about League stuff."

"The League was massacred, so I don't think the rule stands." Everyone silently lost their shit, and Mrs. Queen chastised herself. "Forget you heard that. Tommy, I really need to talk to him."

"Yes, ma'am,"

"So," started Diggle with a clap of his hands. "Homicides, a whore, and a massacre; what's our next topic of discussion?"

"I've developed a more flexible Kevlar," offered Tommy.

"I made it half-way up the salmon ladder," Rosie said.

"I found a human tooth on the sidewalk today," stated Danny.

"Who saw the game last night?" Connor managed to steer the conversation in a normal direction for nearly ten whole minutes while Mrs. Queen surreptitiously observed the odd surveillance photos under the table.

That is NOT how you kiss a prostitute, she mused, noting the lack of lust in every photo.

"Sinister Kid" by The Black Keys