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Summary
Rory strides into the place like it’s his, all brash confidence and sure of his welcome. It’s a mistake, though, one that gets a gun leveled at his chest as he’s pierced by the icy stare of Leonard Snart. Even at this distance, I can see Snart’s flat look, a hint of his blue eyes, and a whole lot of lethalness. With any luck, he’ll shoot Rory in short order and I can bust him for the murder. Two scumbugs off the streets, one permanently. Now that’s rehabilitation. I duck back down and wait for the shot. Except that it never comes.
Rory gets loud. “Three fucking years!” After that, it takes me a minute to realize that it’s not words that I’m hearing, or even a fight. It’s something very different.