Work Text:
Hartley hated this place. It was bad enough he had to be the one dealing with this, now he had to come to this dump. Where half the rowdy drunks were entirely oblivious to what was going on under their noses and the other half included some of the most repulsive people he had ever had the misfortune of meeting.
Someone had to deal with this though. There was no use relying on the authorities, they’d been turning a blind eye for years. Subtle did not appear to be a skill of Team Flash who would want to rush in and mess up his plan even if they were sans Flash. Iris perhaps could have been useful, though Hartley hesitated to ask anything of her while she was grieving another fiancé.
Which left Hartley having to sit at a grotty bar and wince as terrible music came over crackling speakers.
He missed the days before the accelerator where he could just switch his hearing aids off without a second thought and not have to weigh up listening to that or dealing with tinnitus.
Hartley rolled his eyes at the over enthusiastic couple at the bar, the man practically lifting the woman onto it as they presumably attempted to eat each other. Loudly.
He sat next to them in a huff and lifted a finger.
“What can I get you?” Doctor Caitlin Snow slid over.
“Some bleach.” Hartley ran a finger across the top of the bar. Surprisingly not disgusting, though that was likely Caitlin. Even in her self-imposed exile from S.T.A.R. Labs some habits never died, and a clean and tidy workplace had always been a priority for her.
Caitlin raised an eyebrow and Hartley groaned.
“Whatever’s most expensive,” Hartley settled on. “Two glasses.”
Caitlin rolled her eyes and turned to the shelf behind her to see what she could find.
She poured two reasonable glasses of whiskey and slid them over, not bothering to ask him to pay- knowing he had no intention of doing so- then went over to serve another customer. Hartley nodded and picked up the napkin she’d slid over with it, then pulled out his phone and groaned at his lock screen.
“Here, take these off my hands, will you?” He slid the glasses to the couple. “Date just stood me up.”
“Sure, guy,” the man said, separating just for a moment.
“You good?” the woman asked.
“I have better places to be,” Hartley said.
He sauntered out the door, checked around, then pulled out Caitlin’s napkin and studied the address. The location of Amunet Black’s next planned trade.
Hartley grinned.
Time for the Pied Piper to go cause some more trouble.