Leonard Snart // Captain Cold (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hypothermic) wrote2016-02-08 09:26 am
hypothermic) wrote2016-02-08 09:26 amLeonard Snart // Captain Cold - IC Inbox
ID: coldasice
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hypothermic) wrote2016-02-08 09:26 am
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The silence isn't heavy, or uncomfortable. Leonard isn't avoiding anything by not looking up at Mick, he just doesn't have to. He knew who was coming and why the moment Mick's boot hit the first step of the metal stairs.
He only pauses in his work when Mick speaks. Quick fingers stopping in the middle of reworking a small circuit board. One of his own making, less refined and complex compared to the surrounding pieces Ray has built, but that's why he's taking the time to compare the two. Learning. It keeps his brain busy, so he can't fixate on what he can't tear apart and put back together with his own two hands. ]
Sun is bad for your skin.
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[ And Mick wasn't in any position to give him any lectures on it, not that he was planning to try. He'd been stirring up plenty of trouble with the locals on his own, little pockets of chaos - maybe too little, he was starting to think lately - to stave off the boredom. It wasn't just that their personalities weren't conducive to getting along with others; they liked the antagonism, though where they found the satisfaction in it might differ. Being told not to fight was among the last things Leonard could expect Mick to say. ]
And those are only gonna get worse if you don't eat something. So take a break.
...
Maybe give the bread another minute in there. Kid's best attempt might still chip a tooth.
[ He'd picked the best-looking piece out of Ray's least disastrous batch, but it couldn't hurt to let the soup soften and flavor it a moment longer. ]
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[ The stew smells good. Mick's a decent cook, all things considered. What isn't burnt is usually palatable. There's nothing like a plateful of bachelor chow and a cold bottle of beer at three in the morning after a successful heist.
He wipes his hands with a nearby rag and turns his attention to the bowl of stew, eyeing the brick of bread sticking out of the depths like one half of the Titanic. ]
Look at that plating. Gordon Ramsay would be proud.
You two should open a restaurant together.
[ Leonard might be talking smack, but he's already dipping a finger and giving it a taste. Meat, meat and more meat. Charred and simmered back to softness. Definitely a Mick Rory special.]
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[ It seems like all of his feelings fit neatly under those two words, and Mick finds himself strangely satisfied by it. He leans his hip against the desk nearby, arms folding. He's close but no longer on top of the other man. ]
I want you to face this and decide on where we stand with this chick. It doesn't matter what Palmer wants.
[ Not when it came down to it, not on this. His arms slacken somewhat, allowing him to tug at the seams of his gloves, one after the other. ]
Whatever you pick... you know I'm gonna back you up.
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Leonard doesn't move a muscle, but the violence is in his eyes. Feral in a way that no amount of affectation can disguise. Not from Mick. He can see right through the world-class act that is Leonard Snart, and straight to the scared child who would do anything to survive. The boy is more dangerous than the man. Fear does ugly things to people, and Mick knows better than anyone that this whole run-around is because Leonard's afraid. Sitting somewhere between self-protection and self-sabotage. Pushing Ray to see where his allegiance lies, and pushing Mick because he doesn't know how to stop pushing.
It's the first time anyone else has been part of the equation. Maybe that's what scares him more than the Russian herself, or anything she could do to him.
Even after Mick had saved his ass in juvy, Leonard couldn't accept that Mick was on his side. Not right away. Because up until that point no one had ever been on his side, and Leonard would rather be alone and take risks he knew over safety he didn't.
A lifetime later, he's still surprised when Mick chooses him.
Leonard folds his arms over his chest and shrugs, his eyes tearing away to stare off into the distance. Looking anywhere but at Mick, who can read him like no one else can. ]
Ray can invite whoever the hell he wants to his tea party, but if they try to screw me over the table? I'm gonna kill them and no one is gonna stop me.
Not even him.
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[ Mick is skeptical about whether or not Ray will keep that promise if things do take a turn for the ugly, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that Mick is confident in his own ability to make their do-gooder teammate keep the promise. It isn't as if Ray doesn't know who they are or what they're capable of, but he seems to be under the impression that there's a line they won't cross. When Mick agreed to let the Russian come and get shelter, he seemed to believe that Mick was doing it because he was willing to give her the benefit of a new first impression.
All he was doing was letting her walk into their line of fire.
He can tell that Leonard is scared. What he's not sure about is whether that fear is for her or... or something to do with them. Guessing that it had anything to do with disappointing Ray would be acknowledging he thought it was worth consideration, and Mick wasn't willing to go there. So it must be something to do with him. Did Snart think he was going soft? ]
If it were up to me, she'd have been dead months ago.
[ He reminds the younger man. The way he grinds his teeth a little speaks to some lingering frustration, jaw flexing. Once he can unhinge them, his tone is a quiet smoke of acceptance. ]
But it's up to you. You're the boss.
[ One thing he's pretty sure of is that his partner always takes solace in having control. It'd been a pretty ballsy move to hand it to Mick and trust him to move them forward, but now he's giving it back. ]