who: Laurel Lance and Leonard Snart. what: A bar fight with a Lance sister. The usual for Len. where: The Rabbit Hole. when: Late evening. rating: PG-13. status: In progress.
Laurel walked into The Rabbit Hole and looked around speculatively. Her day had taken a turn for the weird when she'd found herself suddenly in a town that looked like something from an old Gilmore Girls episode, nothing at all like the Star City she knew and loved. She'd thought at first that it was HIVE, not Darhk since he was in custody with his magic destroyed but there were likely others in the group who were just as much of a threat, until a man who was apparently Prince Charming of all people had showed up with information, a stipend, directions to an apartment and a smartphone. Apparently, she was in a magical small town full of fairy tales. And thus, she was here. Well, after going to her apartment and removing her weapons and enough of her costume that she didn't look quite so vigilante.
It wasn't that she wanted a drink. She'd been down that road and she wasn't eager to revisit it. But she'd learned that bars were a good place to find information. She took off her jacket, leaving her in her standard black sleeveless top and leather pants and boots and leaned against the bar. "Club soda with lime," she said, looking around the room. Before the bartender could respond, a scruffy man in a leather jacket inserted himself into her space. Way too far into her space. Great. Because that was exactly what she needed.
"So-" That was as far as he got before she grabbed his hand and yanked it away from her leg.
"No," she said, before any more words could come out of his mouth.
"Excuse me?" he replied, seeming surprised.
"No," she said again, turning to face him, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Whatever it is, the answer is no. No, I don't want a drink. No, I don't want to dance. No, I don't want company. And no, I don't want your hands anywhere near me, so why don't you go somewhere else before I break them."
"Now listen here, bitch-" He grabbed her wrist and she looked down at it for a moment before twisting it with a snap. He barely had time to make a wounded noise before she had him flipped over onto the floor and her boot pressed to his throat. "Next time a woman tells you no," she said softly, "you might want to listen."
Turning back to the bar, she smiled at the bartender. "If I could get that drink now," she said. "Thank you."