Len watched pigtails rising- like shark fins from the water- from behind Mark with no small amount of incredulity. And then the blonde was standing on the seat and leaping over the booth and Len knew who it was only a few second before Mark said her name.
Fuck. So much for lying low.
And where this one was her bigger, greener, crazier boyfriend usually wasn't far behind. This was exactly why Len had been reticent to stop in Gotham. He dropped one hand off of the table and moved it to the inside of his coat, keeping his fingers on the stock of his cold gun. He wouldn't ice Harley (and blow their cover) unless she was posing a threat... or if her smiling friend decided to show up. Then it was every man for themselves-- and the Rogues? The Rogues were survivors.
"Harley." He said sternly by way of greeting, keeping a wary eye open for any of the rest of Harley's usual crowd. Briefly he met Mark's eyes, then jerked his to the side without moving his head to signal that they both should keep a look out. "We're lying low. You wanna sit with us? Sit down, shut up and play it sane."