Since Mark was sitting with his back to the door, this time it was Len's turn to be the bearer of bad news. He just had a drink in his hand and was about to sip from it when a dishy blonde came in-- and as luck would have it-- she was there for them. Unfortunately, she was also a speedster.
If James had anything to do with this one too.
Len watched Jesse walking over to their table, dropping one hand to his yellow belt, hidden beneath his jacket. If he needed to, he could whip up a quick cold field to keep Quick from going much of anywhere at speed. He muttered into his drink to Mark, "Quick." But that was all the warning he got.
"Jesse." Len said when she sat down next to him. With her that close, there was no way Len could get to his gun in its holster or the cold field generator on his belt without her noticing and putting a very fast stop to it. If it came down to a scrap, Mark would have to make the Rogues' first move-- but Len wasn't concerned. There was reason Mark was his right hand man.
"We're sorry to hear about your old man." Len said with sincerity. Despite the fact that the Speedsters and the Rogues were on opposite sides of the law, Len knew what it was like to lose family. And Len knew that Mark did as well. It wasn't something that he'd wish on anyone, not even a speedster. So when word had reached the Rogues that there was a Speedster Showdown of Epic Proportions (which they had wisely stayed the fuck out of it) and that Johnny Quick was among the casualties, Len had flowers sent to the funeral from the Rogues with their sympathies.