#|| something changed ||

[ofxfirexandxice]

[ @ofcanaryisms continued from here ]

There’s something that might be a huff of an amused sound as she asks if he got lonely. All he’d known is that she’d fallen asleep in his room last night, and he’d––very carefully––situated her so that she wasn’t going to end up with stiff muscles or a crick in her neck. Which had just happened to be stretched out beside him. 

So maybe at some point in the night he’d woken up with her head on his chest, and found that he hadn’t minded. And then maybe he’d woken that morning to find her gone without a word and found that he did mind that, not that he would acknowledge it to himself or to her.

Of course, he doesn’t have to either as she continues on, though not before hugging him once more and apologizing for last night. He glances around them once to make sure no one else had woken up yet then turns his attention to her again, fingers ghosting along her spine from the base of her neck to the small of her back before his hand flattens there, bringing her just a little closer.

“See, now when you say things like that,” he begins, smirk evident even in his voice, “––it makes me wonder if you somehow think that I mind a gorgeous woman sleeping in my bed.”

[ofxfirexandxice]

@littlejessequick started following you

He’s sitting in the back corner of the room in a chair with his eyes closed when he hears footsteps and looks through barely cracked eyelids to see a girl enter the room.

This is the second person he’s seen today that he doesn’t recognize from Flash’s team, or at least, the team he had before Snart left a few months ago, and he’s starting to wonder if they’re renting the place out now. The first person had been a man who looked a hell of a lot like Harrison Wells and was, in fact, Harrison Wells, just not the one from this Earth, but then the one known on this Earth was apparently not the actual Harrison Wells of this Earth either and––

And damn if his headache isn’t just getting worse. The type of headache––or migraine, rather––where it hurts to think, to breathe. Maybe it was something about finally being back in his actual ‘current’ time. Maybe it’s something else. Regardless, he decides to save the topic of multiple universes to ponder at a later time.

He doesn’t know if she’s seen him or not, though he’s currently leaning toward not, judging by the fact she seems preoccupied with something, so he decides he might as well speak up now, before he ends up startling her later.

“So’s there  a s p i r i n  anywhere in this place? I looked through the desk––” he begins, indicating the main desk in the room, “––but I couldn’t find any. Just more of Cisco’s candy stash.”

[ofxfirexandxice]

@harrisxnwells started following you

He really hadn’t been expecting to see anyone for awhile after Cisco left the room to (begrudgingly?) work on the favor that Snart had come here to ask of him. Supposedly, according to Cisco, Caitlin wasn’t due in until later in the morning, a dentist appointment apparently, and Barry was at his actual work that was meant to pay his bills. 

So, it was surprising enough when he heard footsteps that were definitely too light and measured in nature to be Cisco’s drawing closer––concerning enough that he stands from his chair, ready to react if need be––but to see the dead Harrison Wells enter the room was more than even the usually unflappable Leonard Snart could entirely cover.

“ H o n e s t l y .  Don’t tell me that now we’ve added  z o m b i e s  to the list of problems the particle accelerator caused when it went  k a b o o m ,” he says in his usual sarcastic tone, as though unconcerned, and yet deft fingers still discreetly shift to a knife hidden in his currently empty cold gun holster. 

[ofxfirexandxice]

[ @ofcanaryisms continued from here ]

“What was that?” Eyebrows raise as he looks at her, even as he shoves his hands into his pockets. He’s not cold. Well, not too cold anyway. And definitely a lot warmer than her, if the shivering and discoloration are any indications––which they are. 

After all, who knows the effects of the cold better than Captain Cold.

“Did I  a c t u a l l y  just hear a ‘thanks’ from the Assassin?” he questions, eyes practically dancing in amusement as the smirk reserved almost solely for her threatens to appear. “I suppose that at least now if I do catch the flu, it will’ve been worth it.” 

[ofxfirexandxice]

@thosewhofavourfyre started following you

He’s no stranger to taking a beating. He’s taken quite a few, in fact. From his dad, from other kids, from his fellow inmates that first day in juvie, from other inmates a couple of the times he’d been in prison without Mick…

But an actual honest to God pummeling from Mick, another moment of thinking he was going to die in a fight but knowing that Mick wouldn’t be stepping in to protect him because he was the one dealing the punches… That one was a new one, and he’s been trying to figure out how to handle it, where he stands with Mick, how he needs to act around him. Unfortunately, his––admittedly somewhat addled, at the moment––brain still hasn’t produced an answer by the time the focus of his current train of thought enters the room, Snart’s eyes immediately snapping to him.

There are several moments of stillness, of simply staring at him, until at last he breaks the silence.

“… Mick,” he greets, and anyone who knows him the way that Mick knows––knew?––him could note the wariness as his hawk-like gaze remains trained on the older man, watching, tensed and ready to move if need be.

[ofxfirexandxice]

vibechronicles started following you

It’s exactly as the lights are flipped on in the lab that he spins the chair around to face the door––just like something out of some mafia film––posture one of being perfectly at ease. When his eyes settle with their usual unnerving sharpness on the new arrival to the room, a smirk appears.

“Ah. Cisco,” he greets, his smirk only broadening. He had planned for any of the others appearing, of course, but had hoped that it would be Cisco who arrived at the lab first that morning.

He leans back even further into his confiscated chair and rests his elbows on the arms, steepling his fingers.

“ J u s t  the person I wanted to see. Why don’t you take a seat?”