Impulse decisions weren't usually Len's style but he understood their value, particularly when you were going for the element of surprise. He was a thief, after all. Sometimes impulse was necessary. Taking advantage of a situation in the heat of the moment was key in certain heists. Not that this was a heist. But he'd learned some very interesting things about Barry, and it was always easier to strike when someone was flustered. Not to mention he'd had a particularly shitty week. Giving The Flash a hard time always had a way of bringing his mood up.
Finding the right apartment was easy enough. A little process of elimination. A few carefully asked questions. Simple enough. And lock picking was second nature by now. Same as the sleight of hand and everything else. He'd had decades of practice since the age of eleven.
What he hadn't been prepared for was the sight of Barry Allen, The Flash, in a wheelchair. Normally he was good at keeping his composure. He prided himself on it, actually. It was something that had always helped him to survive along the way. But his smirk faltered and something uncomfortable fluttered in his stomach all at once.
"You've been holding out on me, Barry." No nickname this time. Not in this context. As much as he'd been looking forward to giving the kid a hard time even Len had a sense or propriety.