Taking The Bait
February, 1902
Stagnant air filled her nostrils, and Flash fought hard not to choke against it. Phillips' paranoia had sunk its sharp claws into him, so he moved their meetings with the inner circle down to a dank cellar underneath the original warehouse. It was even darker and seedier than the room above them and she couldn't help but wonder how he had managed to find this place. It had to have been found long before the paranoia, not by chance. The door was well hidden, and she had assumed it had previously been for storage of some sort. What they could have stored down here, she hadn't the faintest idea. All she knew was that the air around her smelled like a moldy mop she couldn't wait to rejoin the surface and breathe the thick smog of Queens. It wasn't much better but at least she didn't have to worry about getting mushroom lung up there.
She had missed the last meeting, something that did not go unnoticed by the gang, nor forgotten. She had to come up with the excuse that she was under the weather that day and unable to leave the confines of her bed. Truth was, she was with Spot and had forgotten all about the meeting. It was careless of her, and she took note to be more careful.
She strained her eyes against the dimly lit room, barely able to make out the faces of the people in front of her. They were meeting by candlelight, and Flash couldn't help but think this whole scene looked like something you'd read out of a dime store thriller novel. With the light from the candles and the semi-circle they had formed, it looked like they were doing a seance, and she stifled a giggle. It was cut short, stuck in her throat when she saw Phillips stand, the candle-light gleaming on the blade poking out from the strap on his arm.
"Everyone quiet down!" Phillips's voice echoed in the close quarters and the murmuring surrounding her came to a halt.
It became eerily silent, a pregnant pause in the close quarters. The air that just held soft whispers was now harboring hostility and vengeance to match.
Phillips shuffled his way slowly to the small table he had somehow managed to procure out of thin air. He carried a rolled-up piece of parchment under his arm, the edges torn and discolored. It looked like a scripture of some sort and Flash began to worry that he was going to make them start chanting in Latin. It wasn't until he unraveled it and spread it out on the table that she realized what it was. A map. A map of Brooklyn.
"This... This here is going to show you points of attack. I've already started sketching out the main ones that I think will be used by most of the Brooklyn crew. Stand up, gather round so you can get all the angles." Phillips commanded quietly. He didn't need to raise his voice for them to know it was an order. They rose and gathered around the table.
Flash chose to stand next to Riggs, one of the least threatening of the bunch. He was just a kid, a greenie. She couldn't help but wonder how he could harbor so much resentment when he hadn't been around for any more than a year at most.
She stood silently, trying her best not to look too guarded but her heart was pounding in her chest. Until this point, attacking Spot and the others had all been an abstract concept. Nothing more than talk and wisps of a plan caught in the wind. But now it was starting to take shape, and it was weighing down on her like a slab of concrete. She could feel her anxiety throb in her tired bones.
Phillips uncapped a pen with his mouth, holding the top between his teeth as he began to scribble on the map. He drew a big circle around one place and Flash recognized it as the main shipment area for the Brooklyn brigade. That is where most of the Brooklyn business was conducted for the newsies, right off those docks. They were somewhat secluded, something that they aimed for, but it was coming back to bite them in the ass. No one would see anything.
"This right here is our main point of entrance. This is where it will all happen. But we need to come in from all three sides. A third of us will come from the north on Furman Street." He drew an arrow on the map.
"A third will go south on Furman Street." Another arrow.
"And the rest will head in from the east off Grace Court. We'll all meet in the middle, right at Lookout Pier. There is no way they see us coming," Phillips finished, scrawling the last arrow on the map, indicating the direction they would all move in on the chosen day. All pointing towards Lookout Point.
Flash's hand began to tremble, and she had to shove it in her pocket to mask it. Seeing it in ink made it real. No longer just whispers passed like cigarettes under stairwells—this was a war map. And she was standing on the wrong side of it. She hated to admit it, but this was one hell of a plan. One that could end with the bay being stained red.
Riggs cleared his throat and raised a hand. "Boss, sir. That looks like a great plan. But how are we going to make sure both the Brooklyn AND the Manhattan crew are there at the same time? Won't that be rather tricky?" he asked sheepishly.
Phillips glared at him and let the air escape forcefully through his nose. "Riggs! Use some common sense. It's hardly feasible for all the leaders and their crews to be there at the same time. That's why we're only getting Spot. Were you not listening at the last meeting?"
Riggs' eyes fell to the floor, and he dropped his head, looking embarrassed at being called out in front of everyone. "Sorry sir, I must have forgotten." He stole a glance in Flash's direction, and she felt a pang of sorts in her chest. This kid had bit off more than he could chew.
She looked at Riggs briefly, feeling sorry for the kid. She was compelled to take some of the heat off him. She didn't bother raising her hand, she just spoke before Phillips could continue.
"I don't think it's an unreasonable question. And I wasn't at the last meeting. Would you mind filling me in?"
She saw Riggs visually relax a bit and knew that he could sense her backing him up, albeit subtly, but she was taking much of the attention off him and putting herself in the spotlight. He didn't look at her, but the corner of his mouth twitched, and he looked almost grateful.
"Actually, I do mind. If you wanted to know so bad, you should've been here," Phillips snapped.
Flash's eye twitched and she rubbed it to get it to stop. Her nervousness was coming through and she was trying not to let it show. She wanted- no needed- to know the full plan. She needed to warn the others so they could close ranks and be ready. Phillips was tiptoeing around it, toying with her like this was some kind of fucked up game.
She let out a slow, steady breath and used the most innocent voice she could muster. "I'm sorry I didn't show. I had an upchuck situation. Honestly, I was doing you all a favor. It was putrid. And with this space being so cramped," she glanced around the cellar, it now looking more like a cavern with every detail she took in, "the smell would have most definitely carried."
Phillips stepped to her until the tip of his nose was almost brushing hers, his scrutinizing stare making her uncomfortable. "How do I know you're not lying to me? Say it to my face."
Flash smirked and made a choking noise, pretending to gag in his face.
Phillips' expression contorted and he scrunched up his nose. Flash assumed he was visualizing the made-up fiasco she was painting a picture of. "Don't," he choked out and Flash could tell he was trying not to gag for real.
"Would it be smart for me to be in the dark, Phillips? I am a part of your plan, after all," she reasoned with him.
Phillips held up a finger and was quiet for a second, taking in small, panting breaths. This was the "man" that was supposed to lead this group to victory. He could talk about breaking heads open and letting blood spill into the water, but vomit? Forget about it.
Once his gagging had subsided, he wiped his mouth and turned to face her. "You make a valid point. Stupid, because I was going to tell you, of course. But valid." He pulled out a wad of crumpled paper from his pocket and handed it to her. "These are the key points from last meeting. The minutes."
Flash fought the urge to roll her eyes and smoothed the paper in her hands, taking care not to rip it. She let her eyes wander over the page, taking in each bullet point, reading like it was an obituary. And in a way, it was.
Create a diversion to lead Racetrack and Jack to the opposite side of Manhattan
Sabotage the shipment of papes from the night before so the Brooklyn crew has to send for Spot to come sort it out
Attack once we get a visual
Once Brooklyn is overthrown and Spot is dealt with, the other boroughs will surrender.
Here it was, the master plan. All laid out in front of her on nothing more than a scrap of paper. It was laughable, the theatrics of it all, and she would have gotten a kick out of it had she not known just how serious they were. They had shown the gravity of the situation when they had attacked Jack and beat him to a pulp. Tossed him to the side like he was nothing more than a children's rag doll.
"Why are we leading Racetrack and Jack away? Don't we want to get to them too?" She asked perplexed. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but this wasn't it.
"Like I told Riggs, it'll be borderline impossible to get all the leaders there at the same time without tipping them off." He grabbed another scrap of paper- drawing what appeared to be a diagram- while he continued talking. "I'm not too concerned with the others. Reg, Shank, the twins, Topper. They aren't a threat. But Racetrack and Jack..." he trailed off, scribbling on the paper.
She tried to get a peek at what he was drawing but his arm was obscuring her view. Wait, was he doodling?
"Racetrack and Jack pose a risk to us. They're thick with Spot. Go way back, to the beginning. And they're smart. Not as smart as me, but they're sharp. They could put us at a disadvantage if they show up."
Flash weighed out what he was saying, some of it starting to make sense. He was right, those two were cunning, sly. Thought quick on their feet and could handle themselves in a fight. But some pieces were not quite falling into place for her just yet.
"I get what you mean, but I don't see how attacking only Brooklyn is going to gain you control over all the rest of the boroughs. Spot reigns over Brooklyn, not all of New York," she pointed out, trying to poke holes in his plan. She needed Race and Jack to be there. She needed all the leaders to show up. It was the only way they'd have a fighting chance in hell. Spot and his crew knew how to scrap with the best of them, she'd seen it. Even just playing around, they were not people she would want to trifle with.
But a lot of people on Spot's crew were young, tired. Worn down already from the street life. Put them up against Phillips and the gang, add weapons... it would be nothing short of a bloodbath.
"That's what you think, dollface. But I've known Spot since we were 10 years old, starting out in the business at the same time. I watched him rise through the ranks, become leader. I've seen the power he holds, witnessed it firsthand." He was still scribbling, and Flash could just make out tiny stick figures on the paper. "It goes deeper than Brooklyn. He has way more control than you could even think."
"So tell me how all this ties together, Phillips. I'm going to be a grandmother before you make it to your point," she huffed.
"Spot Conlon is the Golden Boy. The boy everyone admires and bows down to. They look to him for guidance. But what happens when their Golden Boy loses his luster and breaks? Without him- without his hold over Brooklyn- the rest of them become nothing. They call no shots in this city, Spot does. When he isn't in the carriage seat anymore, they lose. Plain and simple. They'll surrender," he finished, and put down the pen.
She looked over his shoulder and could see what he drew. A crude, stick figure drawing of Spot in a pool of blood. And a stick figure that appeared to be Phillips staking a flag next to his body with the word King written on it in his messy handwriting.
Her stomach fell out of her butt, taking her pounding heart along with it. It was all starting to fall into place. Jack and Race were a threat. Teamed up with Spot, they could do major damage. Phillips was going to make sure that wouldn't happen.
In a last-ditch effort to make him rethink the plan she posed her final question. "How do you know that Spot will show up at the docks that day? Just because you mess with the paper shipment doesn't mean he'll come a runnin'."
Phillips smiled like he had just been told a joke, a joke that only he knew the punchline to. "Oh, but it does. I watched Spot prance around for years. Smug, overly self-assured with a penchant to prove something. He needs to show he is in control, the answer to everyone's problems. He's arrogant that way, Trust me... he'll come."
Flash swallowed and folded the paper neatly, handing it back to him. "Seems solid enough," she said casually, masking the quiver in her voice. Spot is dealt with. That little piece of a sentence was flitting across her mind over and over again, stinging her insides with every echo of the phrase. She didn't like the uncertainty that it held, not knowing the clear meaning behind it. She still didn't put it past Phillips to try and kill him. The thought made her nose burn and her eyes threatened to water. She blinked rapidly, forcing the nervous tears to be sucked back up into her tear ducts.
He shoved the paper back in his pants pocket and grinned menacingly. "Oh, it's solid alright. I've been hatching this plan for months." He raised a finger to tap his temple and then drew a line across his throat with it before turning back to address the rest of the group.
Flash gulped and stole a glance at Riggs who saw the motion Phillips made. He couldn't meet her eyes, and she knew for certain what those words meant now. Spot was in grave danger.
"Groups coming in from the sides are the flanks. Your job is to contain anyone who tries to make a run for it, by any means necessary. You'll be equipped with weapons to use. Chains, clubs, knives. Frankly, I don't give a damn what you pick, just make sure it's something you can incapacitate with if need be."
Phillips voice was clear, commanding. Flash couldn't help but think that in another world, he would have made a decent leader. His voice was able to captivate an audience, his tone precise and demanding. If only he wasn't so selfish, so full of rage and animosity. It might would have worked out for him.
"The group coming up from Grace Court will be the brute strength. I want you guys to have clubs. Something solid to strike with. You'll be doing the majority of the heavy lifting. Break kneecaps, elbows, ribs. Aim for the heads if you can. Anyone who doesn't surrender and wants to get wise will get knocked down to their rightful place."
Flash could feel her anxiety bubbling in her stomach, the sudden urge to go to the bathroom strong.
"We're not asking for a seat at the table anymore. We're flipping the damn thing over." Phillips said in finality, cracking his knuckles.
Flash waited for the usual chorus of cheers to ring out, but they never came. This wasn't some over-the-top, rage filled fest like it had been. They were all quiet, calculating. She could see it in their eyes, dark with loathing and determination. It oozed from their pores. This was no longer talk, this was clear cut action.
Phillips clapped his hands and did a shooing motion, dismissing them and no longer holding them captive.
Flash let out a breath and scooted herself around the swarm of people until she was standing in front of Phillips. "When?" she asked curiously.
"Dawn on the first day of Spring, mid-March."
Mid-March? That wasn't enough time. She wasn't ready. They weren't ready. It wasn't enough time to prepare.
"Perfect." she lied cooly. "I'll be ready."
"You better be more than ready. You better be willing."
"Of course. I will be." She gave him a little salute and caught his eyes staring down at her chest, the light catching on the thing dangling around her neck.
"What's that?" he asked pointing to it.
Her heart stopped cold. She didn't have to look to know what he was referring to. She had forgotten to take it off before she left her house.
Her hand closed around the key, instinctively pressing it into her chest, and she tried to tuck it into her shirt before he got a closer look at it.
"It's just a trinket. Belonged to my dad. It used to go to his toolbox. I made it into a necklace when he passed away." The lie came out smoothly, like silk against skin.
His eyes narrowed, staying pinned to the place where the key had just been. "Funny. It looks like a key I've seen before."
She stepped into his space, daring him with a smirk. "A key is a key. There are a lot of keys in the world. You wanna dig through my family's keepsakes now? Maybe accuse me of being sentimental?"
There was a tense beat, and he took his eyes away from the key, now stashed firmly in her shirt and underneath her corset. He raised a hand up in dismissal and Flash took it as her cue to leave. She hurried hastily, trying to put as much distance between them as she could.
He watched her as she climbed up and disappeared to the surface, never taking his eyes off the ladder even after she was long gone.
South appeared to his right, following his gaze. They were both quiet for a moment before South spoke.
"I heard you, ya know. Why'd you tell her mid-March, boss? I thought we decided to strike at the beginning of April."
Phillips was quiet for another minute, waiting for the crowd to clear out, still staring at the ladder. His eyes were holes, his pupils covering most of his irises. He set his jaw, waiting for the last of them to clear out. When they did, he answered.
"You ever heard of the saying 'taking the bait', South?"
"Yes sir."
"Well, we're gonna see if little miss Flash is a fish or not. Lets see if she takes a bite."
South's eyebrows furrowed, his gaze thoughtful as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You think she knows something?"
Phillips nodded slowly, his eyes still dark with suspicion. "I'm sure of it. That key... it's no ordinary trinket. I've seen it before. I don't know where or when, but I know it's important. I have a sinking feeling that it has to do with old Spotty boy. Looks too much like the one he used to parade around with when we were kids. If it does have something to do with him, it's only a matter of time before she connects the dots. I'm not giving her that chance. We'll keep her close. Watch her. But she's playing a dangerous game."
South let out a slow breath and shrugged. "Then we deal with it when it comes. You can't go second-guessing everything she says or does. That's how you lose control."
Phillips turned away, glaring at the far wall as if the shadows themselves were threatening him. "Maybe. But I'd rather be cautious. If she is working for Spot, she's got to be dealt with before this all goes down. She's the wild card, and I don't trust anyone who isn't on my side, especially not her."
The night wrapped Brooklyn in silence, save for the gentle lap of the water and the distant clang of a bell from the shipyard. Flash stood on Spot's pier, her coat pulled tight around her, the edge of Spot's key brushing against her collarbone like the ghost of a promise.
"Evening, little bird," he said with a lopsided grin, his hands shoved in his pockets to keep them out of the brisk cold air. He was late meeting her. Not too late, only by about 5 minutes. Not enough to piss her off, but just enough time to make an entrance.
She didn't smile back.
Spot's smirk dropped. "What is it?" There was a slight edge to his voice.
"They have a solid plan, Sean. A good one. Better than I thought it would be." Her voice was low, urgent.
His face stilled, but he didn't speak, letting her words sink in. His heart picked up pace, but he didn't let himself react. Not yet.
"They're coming from both sides of Furman Street and down Grace Court. They're going to ambush you at Lookout Pier. Create a diversion to lure the Manhattan guys elsewhere so they can't step in to help you."
Spot exhaled, jaw tight. "How many?"
Flash did some mental math, her eyes turning towards the sky. "About 60. 20 are coming in from each of the three areas. The three paths will converge into one. You'll be surrounded on all sides."
They were both silently staring at each other, the words heavy in the air. She could feel the tension, thick like fog. The silence was uncomfortable. She needed him to say something.
"They're not just talking anymore, Spot. They've got chains, clubs... They're coming for blood."
His face was stone, the vein in his neck pulsing to the beat of his heart. "When do we need to be ready?"
Flash swallowed the bile that was rising in her throat and tangled her fingers together in front of her. "They will be here in the early hours of the morning on the first official day of Spring. Their plan is to mess around with the paper shipments so you'll have to come down and fix it. They strike the moment you're visible."
Spot took a step closer, brushing a wild curl behind her ear like he hadn't heard what she said. "You alright?"
Flash blinked. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You look... I dunno. I don't like seeing you look like that," he said quietly. "Almost like you're scared."
"I ain't scared," she muttered, but her voice was thinner than she meant it to be. Her hands played with the hem of her shirt to try to keep her from clamping down on the skin around her thumb. "I just don't want you walking into something blind. I can't... I just can't."
He looked at her for a long while before reaching into the front of her shirt and pulling out the key necklace. His fingers touched the cool metal, lingering there. He rubbed a thumb over the grooves at the bottom before letting it fall back against her chest.
"You still got it on," he said, his voice softer than she was used to hearing.
She shrugged. "Yeah, well. Looks better on me."
He chuckled and pulled her close to him, his nose nestled into the top of her head.
"I trust you, Flash," he said quietly. "I don't say that lightly."
She blinked, heart hammering. "I trust you too, Sean. More than I probably should."
He smiled at that—just a little. His thoughts shifted briefly, pausing for a beat on a phrase before shoving it back down into the depths. "Then maybe we're both just stupid," he said instead.
"Massively stupid," she agreed.
She leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder, and he let her. No theatrics, no bravado, no forced power dynamic. Just her and him and a situation brewing in the sidelines, threatening to put an end to life as they knew it.
Phillips had said the attack was meant for Spot and his crew- that Jack and Race would be distracted. But she couldn't help but still ponder the what ifs. What if she told them too? What if they wanted to fight along with Spot? There was no doubt in her mind that they would, not wanting to leave Spot to face this on his own. Yes, they ran in different boroughs, but they were friends; a team. You don't turn your back on your team.
She swallowed the tears that were threatening to spill. It was bad enough that Spot was in danger, his fate so uncertain. She couldn't bear to add on the possibility that Jack could be dragged through the mud. Or Race. No. She made up her mind. She couldn't tell them, and she had to make sure that Spot wouldn't either.
"The diversion. It needs to happen, Spot," she murmured into the fabric of his coat, her breath hot on her cheeks. Every fiber of her being wanted to scream the truth to Jack, to see Racetrack's stupid grin one last time before everything broke apart and turned to shit. But she couldn't. Not if she wanted them breathing when the sun came up on that day.
Spot pulled back, his face marked with etchings of confusion. "What do you mean? They're trying to isolate me. To humiliate me. Don't I deserve backup?" His tone was turning harsh and Flash scrambled to make him understand.
"You won't be truly isolated. You'll have the Brooklyn boys. And me, when the time comes." She ran a thumb over the crease between his eyebrows, trying in vain to smooth it out. He wasn't biting at her reasoning. "He doesn't want the other two there. I think he knows that the three of you together are dangerous for him. He needs to separate you to even out his odds."
Spot dropped his arms from around her and took a step back. His face was hard now, the hint of tenderness from moments before gone. He looked sullen, almost hurt.
"Tell me I'm wrong in thinking that you've switched sides. 'Cause it sounds an awful lot like you want me in a bad position."
Flash bit her lip and shook her head. He was misunderstanding her. She didn't want this. She didn't want him alone without the others. But she had to protect them, to protect everyone she could. As much as she wanted him to be, Spot was not one of those people. His fate had already been decided by Phillips. Signed, sealed, delivered. To protect Spot, she could only be acting from a defensive standpoint. This attack on him was going to happen. It was laid out in black and white.
Jack and Racetrack's fate was still up in the air, shades of grey surrounding it like burnt out coals in an extinguished fire. And she didn't want to relight that fire. She had the choice to work more on the offensive side to protect them. Eliminating them from the equation would be what ultimately kept them the safest.
"If I had switched sides, I wouldn't be telling you any of this right now." She stepped forward, cutting the distance that he had created between them. He wouldn't look at her. "Sean, you need to understand. There is nothing I can do to stop them from coming after you now. But you and I can work together to keep the other leaders of the boroughs safe and secure. What good would it be if you all were bloodied and beaten? How would that help anyone?"
"So, it's just better for me to be bloodied and beaten then. That's okay with you." His voice was quiet, cold. Flash could tell that he was hurt, the feelings of betrayal ever present in his demeanor.
"Of course that isn't okay with me!" She shouted in frustration. She grabbed him by the back of his neck, forcing him to look at her. "I am trying to help everyone, Spot. I am not leaving you to deal with it by yourself. I will be there. Through the whole thing. I know where their weaknesses lay. Please just trust me on this," she pleaded. Her grip on the back of his neck tightened and he finally turned his head to stare into her eyes.
"I do trust you," he said, a tone of resolution sharp in his voice. "If you think it's better they don't know, then I won't tell them. But they ain't stupid, Flash. They'll see right through it."
Flash shook her head slowly, not breaking eye contact. "Not if I'm the one to send them off."
Spot looked at her sharply, realization of the implications of her words dawning on him. He let his mouth drop into a frown.
"I know, I hate it too," she said, able to read what was going through his mind. "And Jack and Race are going to be so angry when they know."
Spot was still staring at her, searching her for any semblances of doubt, but there were none. Her mind was made up and there was no changing it. "So, to be clear, you want me to lie to the only two people who'd fight to the death for me? You're asking me to let them walk blind into a setup?"
"I'm asking you to help me keep them safe," she clarified, resolution thick in her voice. "It's not a trap. As long as they aren't here, they won't be hurt. We have to keep them as far away as we can. Maybe send them to Reg in the Bronx?"
Spot considered her suggestion. "Could be a good enough lie. But why?"
She thought for a moment but couldn't come up with a good enough excuse as to why they would have to trek all the way to the Bronx. "I dunno. Shit. It'll have to be something else. I'll figure it out. God, they're going to hate me when they find out. But I can live with that. I'll have to live with that."
"No." His voice was final, commanding. "If they're gonna hate anybody, it's gonna be me."
Her expression softened and her voice dropped, taking on the tone you would use when comforting a child. "You don't have to do that."
"I do. I'm the one with the target on my back. And they're my boys. They won't hate me forever." He gave her a small smile, and she returned it, grabbing a hold of his hand.
She ran her finger over the back of his thumb absentmindedly, still trying to come up with a decent enough distraction. "How are you going to lure them away? I don't know how Phillips is planning to do it. Your reason has to be better. And it has to be done before Phillips can get to them."
"Easy. I'll drop a hint to Race about there being a professional poker tournament being held in the Bronx. Something that only a guy that really knows his stuff could win. You know he never passes up a chance to beat people out of their coin." The side of his mouth twitched upwards at the thought at his oldest friend. He knew him so well.
Flash gave him a considering look, still tracing patterns on his wrist. "That's actually perfect. But Jack? He doesn't give a damn about poker."
Spot gave her a half nod in agreement. "Jack is the one that will come if I ask him to. He doesn't need much of a reason. He's a fellow leader. All I gots to do is tell him I need to meet up with him in Whitestone to talk about our plan. He won't ask many questions. He'll go. I just won't be there when he arrives."
"You're right. He'll go as long as it's you asking him to. He isn't a man of many questions when it concerns you. He just shoots into action, asks questions later. Always been that way." She let her mind wander back to their time at the children's prison. He had always been her protecter there. But now the roles had reversed, and he was the one that needed protecting.
Spot could tell she was deep in thought and let her simmer in it for a while. She always got this wistful look in her eyes when her mind wandered. A look that made you want to crawl inside her brain to see what she was thinking.
He reached his hand to her face, caressing her cheek softly and the motion seemed to bring her back down to Earth. She put her hand over his, holding it in place.
"This has to work."
"It will," he said definitively.
She leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his lips. "I trust you," she whispered again, her lips still touching his.
He kissed her back with more force and that's all Flash needed for an answer. He truly trusted her too.