Laurel's eyes narrowed; the quick flash of anger and embarrassment made her features sharp. Jack Kadere laughed softly at the expression and teased, "So… you've fallen for me?"
"La—what? No, of course I haven't." Laurel's protest came out too fast, too loud. She spun toward Felicity as if looking for an ally, and then, as if remembering herself, shook her head so violently it looked like she might topple. "We were talking about Oliver—how did it get to you?"
Felicity only pouted and said nothing, leaving Laurel even more flustered.
"When did I ever like you?" Laurel demanded, trying to sound indignant because pretending not to care was, apparently, the only armor she had left.
"No?" Jack feigned disappointment, shoulders lifting in a mock-sad shrug. "Then I must have been mistaken." He gave her a look that was halfway teasing, halfway triumphant. "So… you don't like me?"
Laurel opened her mouth to form the rehearsed denial—I don't like him, I don't like him—but the words lodged in her throat. That quiet, insolent part of her that hated being told what to do had started to soften around Jack. Was it when he trained her? When he vanished again and prompted them to gossip about him? Or was it the small way he'd invaded her thoughts without permission? She didn't know; she only knew the feeling wouldn't be shooed away by denial.
Jack's chuckle cut through the tangle of her thoughts. It was not the time for daydreaming — not when Felicity was right there and their conversation could be misread. Laurel's face burned with the thought that Felicity might now think she actually liked Jack. She stepped forward to explain, to deflect, but before a word left her, Jack activated the Speed Force with a small flash and scooped up the body bag that contained the real Harrison Wells' corpse.
"I'm leaving." He tucked the bag under an arm the way most people would carry a heavy coat. "Felicity, keep an eye on her. She definitely likes me. Ha."
The red streak vanished before anyone could reply.
Laurel blinked at the empty air where he'd been, her eyes glossy. Felicity, who had been torn between laughter and exasperation a moment ago, threw herself at Laurel in a sudden, affectionate attack.
"He tricked me," Laurel accused, half indignant, half amused.
"Not entirely," Felicity said, still smiling. "Maybe you do need a little watching."
They tussled, the light, intimate violence of old friends. The question of does she like him hung in the air, answered by body language more than words. Felicity had learned a lot in Central City; she could put two and two together. Laurel could keep pretending, but both women understood the small truth: Jack Kadere had lodged himself in their conversations and their imaginations. Whether he knew what he'd done or cared at all was a separate matter.
Outside the base, a red streak had already delivered Jack to the room next to Thea's. He set the body bag down with the same casual grace he used when he handled people and things he considered possessions. Then he slid back into the adjacent room as if the whole night had been his private entertainment.
"You went looking for women again?" Thea teased the moment Jack sat down beside her. She leaned in, taking in his scent with exaggerated curiosity. "Two perfume notes—Birds of Prey, and…? Are you trying to be a serial charmer? Did you—what—did you wind up with all of them?"
"Kids shouldn't be so nosy," Jack said easily.
"You treat me like a kid, yet you put on that R-rated show in front of me!" Thea shot back, indignant in a way that made her look very small and very honest. "Do the Birds of Prey hate each other because of you? Did you sleep with all of them?"
Jack gave a lazy grin and shrugged. "You're gossiping like someone who's never met any of them outside glossy magazine covers. Birds of Prey are legends, sweetheart. You're just excited to be in the same town."
She was. Thea's mouth betrayed her before her defenses could. She had grown up with a curfew and rules, never once getting to see the city's undercurrents. Now she wanted in on everything: the danger, the thrill, the illicit glamour. It was intoxicating.
Watching her excitement, Jack Kadere leaned back lazily, then with a sudden tug pulled Thea Queen down onto him. Their bodies pressed close, though Thea didn't flinch as much as one might expect.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice caught between suspicion and curiosity.
"You've got two choices," Jack replied with that half-smirk that always meant trouble. "Shut up and be my pillow, and I'll take you with me to Central City tomorrow. Or—I'll send you to sleep in the room next door."
"Next door?" Thea scoffed, tilting her chin defiantly. "Please. You don't think I'm scared to be alone, do you? I'm not a little kid anymore."
Jack chuckled darkly. "That so? Funny thing—I left a corpse in that room. One that's been dead for over a decade. If you're really not afraid, I'll walk you over myself." He shifted as if to get up, and in an instant Thea's arms locked tightly around him.
"No! I'm not going anywhere," she blurted, clinging to him. "I'll stay here, I promise. I won't ask anything else, okay?"
"Thought so." Jack's laugh was low as his hand patted her back—and deliberately slid lower.
"You're taking advantage of me," Thea accused, raising her head to meet his eyes.
"Or maybe you're taking advantage of me," Jack countered smoothly.
For a moment their gazes locked, breaths falling in rhythm, heartbeats pounding louder than either cared to admit. Thea's green eyes shimmered with nerves and something else—an unspoken anticipation. Her makeup was gone now, leaving her features raw and honest, her lips trembling as though caught between fear and curiosity.
Jack leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "Want to try something more exhilarating than drugs or alcohol?"
Thea inhaled sharply, then gave the faintest nod before closing her eyes.
The night blurred into chaos and fire, as if a storm had swept them both into its center. Thea, reckless and restless like a butterfly breaking out of its cocoon, didn't shrink back. She wanted to test her limits, to prove herself in this strange and dangerous new world Jack had opened to her. Though her body was small, her will carried her through every wave that crashed over her.
And when at last the storm subsided, she lay there trembling but smiling, rain-washed and unsteady yet radiant.
"I think I finally get it," she said breathlessly, pointing to the faint marks on her arm. "Why Huntress hates you but still can't seem to walk away. This is… way more addictive than being drunk."
Jack tilted his head, amused. "First lesson? Take a shower. You'll thank me."
"Later," Thea murmured, nestling into his chest. "I just want to rest first."
Half an hour passed before she finally dragged herself up, moving stiffly—just as Huntress had earlier—toward the bathroom. When she returned, clean and exhausted, she curled up against Jack's side once more, her small frame sinking into him as she drifted into a deep, dream-heavy sleep.