Mark headed out of the backroom, the bartender not too far behind, with a bottle of Wild Turkey in his hand. He never bothered to rebutton most of his shirt, and he probably could've used a hairbrush.
"Brought you some---"
He straightened up. What the fuck was he doing here? The whole point of lying low was to not be found, especially by The Flash. He was almost positive the guy didn't find him on his own either. Only a few people even knew where they were headed in the first place.
God dammit, James.
He shot Len a look. It was a mix of "What the hell?" and "Are we good?" This Flash was different then the last guy. Occasionally Mark found him tolerable. That didn't mean he wasn't a running bastard who fucked up good plans. He put the bottle down on the bar and waited. The bartender, registering something was up, took to cleaning off some more glasses for them.