It would, Barry Allen thinks, take more time and far more understanding of personal dynamics than he has to unpack the undercurrents he's blundered into here.

Snart…Len…is staring at Sara and there's something pained in his expression. He almost looks…hurt? And Sara isn't meeting his eyes anymore, like she understands she's asked something that's apparently problematic in a way Barry doesn't get. After a moment, Len looks away too, shrugging.

"Yeah," he mutters. "I could try. I mean, I look like 'im, right?"

"Mostly," Sara says quietly, even as Barry agrees.

"Well." The older man shrugs again. "Let's get somewhere we can hash this one out, get a plan. Kid's probably terrified. Don't want to leave 'im there any longer than we have to."

And with that, he turns and ambles for the entrance to the alley. Sara, after a moment, follows.

Barry, who's wishing on some level that Cisco's facial recognition software hadn't picked up on the presence of a certain Snart doppelganger and alerted him, sighs and follows them both.

Sara, to be honest, wants to scream.

I didn't suggest you pretend to be him because I miss him, she wants to tell Len. I suggested you do it because it'll get a foot in the door of this Monteleone. Because that man was scared of him. Because we only have about 90 minutes before this deadline, and there are lives at stake.

But she doesn't scream. And she doesn't say it. Any of it.

Instead she just follows…wondering if any of it's true.

She doesn't think she's-ugh, pining, she guesses it would be pining-for her…for the original Leonard so much that she's purposefully trying to make Len into him. It was just logical, right? He's logical, just like…

She'd been about to think "just like real Leonard." Sara sighs.

She'd rather expected to head to STAR Labs, but Barry balks, right at the edge of the alley, where he's still in the shadows.

"Cisco's actually out of town," he admits. "A family thing. And Caitlin and Harry are at the lab and asked for some privacy to run an experiment. I'd rather honor that if possible."

Sara tilts her head, glad for the distraction. "An experiment, eh? Like…a personal one?" If she's not going to be able to see where her own love life might be going right now, she'll speculate on other people's.

"What? No!" Barry looks appalled. "What…"

"I don't know who any of these people are," Len mutters, cutting him off. "Where the hell are we going then?"

The speedster hesitates, then nods to himself. "I'd rather not drag Iris or Joe into this unless we really need them," he says, "but neither of them is home right now. Snart, you know where…"

Len gives him a flat look and Barry flushes. "Uh, you don't, do you? Um. Oh, hell." He nods to himself, then blurs away in a gold streak…only to return in street clothes, shrugging.

"Jitters!" he announces. "We can sit outside and talk. No one's going to think we're discussing anything serious. I'll even buy, since Flash business sort of interrupted your, uh, date."

Len snorts, the sound full of derision.

"Oh sure, let's sit at a coffeehouse and talk about taking down the local drug kingpin. Which we have to do in the space of…" He makes a show of checking his watch. "…79 minutes. Brilliant."

Barry gives him a wounded look. "Got a better idea?"

Sara cuts in, trying to intervene before the snarkfest escalates.

"You're both right," she says. "We need to talk, but we need to do it somewhere slightly more private and we need more information. Barry, can you speed us to your house?" She holds up a hand as Len groans. "I know. But we need a minute…and a few things, including a map of the area, and I don't want to be peering at the tiny one on my phone."

She holds out an arm and Barry takes it. Then they both look expectantly at Len.

Sara's not sure what she'll do if he refuses. But after a long moment, Len sighs and extends his arm too.

Travel by speedster is every bit as unpleasant here as it is at home. Len shakes his head, still trying to settle himself, as he and Sara wait for Barry in the living room of the neat home the speedster had taken them to. Barry had darted away to deal with something else for a moment, and Len has a certain suspicion he'd been relieved to get away from the awkwardness.

Sara's still watching him like she's not sure what his next reaction is going to be. He's not sure either.

To be fair, he understands perfectly well why Sara had suggested he pose as this world's Leonard. It makes sense. The man was obviously someone who's going to get a certain amount of…cautious respect, perhaps…from this Earth's Monteleone. All they need is that foot in the door.

But he's only human. And he's getting mighty frustrated by his inability to get out from under his doppelganger's shadow.

After a moment, he holds up a wall, leaning against it and crossing his arms, trying to look nonchalant. Sara eyes him, folding her own arms. She's sensed his discontent; he's positive of that. So maybe it's time to clear the air.

"It's a good idea," he tells her quietly, before she can speak. "You're right. It should get us in the door."

Sara rises an eyebrow. "Yeah?" she returns, leaning against the opposing wall. "You mean that?"

"Wouldn't say it otherwise." He sighs. "Sara…"

But, as he knows well, one of the drawbacks to both working against and with a speedster is that they traditionally have colossally bad timing. This one is no exception.

Barry flickers up even as Len searches for the words to convey his feelings to Sara, grinning…at least, until he sees them both glaring at him.

He thrusts a map and a bundled leather jacket toward Sara, taking a step defensively back.

Sara meets Len's eyes for a long moment, then shakes her head. She juggles the items, tucking the map under her arm, then looks at the jacket for a minute, something wistful in her eyes.

"Layers," she says with a sigh, holding it out to Len. "If you're going to…you need more layers. The jacket at least. Maybe another shirt under that, although that's not as noticeable."

Len takes it, frowning. "Seriously?" he says, smoothing the soft leather between his fingers. "It's warm out. And I'll ruin it the minute I ice up, if that's a thing I need to do."

Sara's eyes are distant. "He always had multiple layers on. It was…well. Consider it armor."

Barry glances back and forth between them, uncertain. "What?" he says, then brightens. "Oh, right. I heard you had ice powers. Can I see?"

Len lifts an eyebrow at him, trying to decide whether to bestow snark (for the inappropriate timing) or innuendo ('cause it's fun) on the other man when Barry suddenly looks like he's realized something.

"Crap," he says. "Um, Monteleone is going to expect you to have the cold gun on you. You walk in without it, he's gonna know something's up." Then he snaps his fingers." I know!"

He flickers away, leaving Sara and Len staring after him, but he's back before they so much as exchange another word, pushing a large black gun into Len's arms. It looks somewhat like his old gun, but not quite, and he stares at it a moment before lifting his eyes to the speedster.

"It's just a prototype," Barry tells him. "It doesn't actually work. But Monteleone won't know that, and you can, uh, always fake it."

Len regards the gun a moment, then shrugs. "All right." He hands it back to Barry a moment, then pulls the jacket on, settling it with a shrug of his shoulders, then takes the gun back and looks at Sara.

After the briefest moment of something raw, her expression is…well, "set" is probably the best word. She nods to him, and he glances at Barry—who looks sad a moment before nodding himself.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "You could fool him. But you, ah…" He glances at Sara. "…you need less you in your eyes. You need to be...colder."

Sara seems uninclined to speak at the moment, so Len just does the best he can. He narrows his eyes, trying to project a frosty image—it's not like he's never done that before. No emotion, he tells himself. No connections. No feelings.

And he must have succeeded at least somewhat, because Sara makes a pained noise and glances away. Barry sighs, but nods. "OK," he says, watching Len, "say something."

Len glares at him. "Like what?" he mutters, but irritation definitely leaks through.

Sara sighs, finally. "Make your voice…" She nibbles her lip. "Well, colder. A little lower. Try to…distance yourself. There weren't many people he liked and I'm pretty sure he'd hate this Monteleone guy. It'd either be out-and-out dislike or…"

"Snark," Barry supplies. "I've heard you do that." He nods. "And the drawl."

"That goddamned drawl," Sara mutters. "Yeah. Just…insolent." Her lips actually twitch up a little. "I know you can do that. I've heard it."

Len snorts. "Tell me again why you liked him?" he drawls, uneasy and unable to help himself. " 'Cause between the attachment issues and the attitude problem, he sounds like a real peach to me."

He regrets the words the moment he says them, but Sara just shakes her head.

"We're talking about the façade, Len," she says quietly. "Not the real man."

Barry nods in agreement, then turns to Sara, clearly trying to break up the tension.

"You said you want something to change into?" he asks. "Iris would understand…"

Sara allows the other man to lead her upstairs, leaving Len standing there holding the cold gun. After an uncomfortable moment, he turns away, studying the layout, the décor, the photos—huh, Iris looks different here, too—and trying to figure out if he should steal something, just for old time's sake.

There's a mirror by the door. He saunters over, regarding himself in it. He still looks like…well, himself.

There's time for some acting practice.

"Snart. Leonard Snart," he tells his reflection coldly, raising his chin and narrowing his eyes. "This is my city. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

His reflection does, indeed, look a bit intimidating. But it also looks pissed, because Len is. Not emotionless enough? He doesn't know.

"Monteleone." He clears his throat, recognizing his own disgust for the man in that name. "Monteleone. What. The. Fuck."

The image looks unimpressed. Len shrugs.

"I've had enough of these goddamned drugs in my goddamned city." Do they have Samuel L. Jackson on this world? Surely he transcends Earths?

He snorts at his own distraction, then sighs, eyeing the mirror. The other Snart looks equally perturbed. And Len's had enough.

"I'm Leonard Snart," he taunts his reflection. "And I'm an idiot."

He shakes his head, thinking about the whole damned situation, his jacket-wearing, self-sacrificing counterpart and the shadow he continues to cast.

"I had an amazing woman interested in me," he heckles the image, "and I was a broody jackass and didn't say anything until it was too late."

He sighs and glances away. "And I fucked it up for anyone else who might be wearing my face. Not that he…I…should have expected that, but weirder things have happened, and…"

And as he turns back, he sees Sara at the base of the stairs, watching him.

Oops.

Len turns again, trying to look smooth, choosing to believe that Sara heard none, or at least little, of that. She's wearing a black motorcycle jacket over her outfit now, lending her native deadliness an added air of intimidation, and she looks just as gorgeous.

Frankly, he can't imagine a situation in which he wouldn't think she looks beautiful.

"Where's the kid?" he asks, nonchalantly leaning against the wall again. "You two my entourage on this caper?"

Sara's lips quirk. "He's trying to decide if he owns anything that looks intimidating," she says. "And I suppose so. Going in there alone wouldn't be a good idea, even for 'Captain Cold.'"

Len chuckles, eyeing her. But he's just trying to decide if it would be OK to flirt a little when she speaks again.

"So…'amazing'?"