entrancelogs | [open] you're as cold as ice -- you're willing to sacrifice

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[open] you're as cold as ice -- you're willing to sacrifice

Who: Leonard Snart and YOU. Also, plot for closed starters by commenting to my plotting comment or hitting me up at

reineke
Where: Throughout Genosha
When: 8/5-8/9
Rating: PG-13? I guess? I'll update if anything bad happens.
Summary: Len has ice powers and is, on the one hand, a thief and generally not so savoury character. On the other hand, he's in favour of free will and equal chances, so somehow he ends up actually being pro-human. He's not sure how he ended up a good guy either.
Will match format, brackets or prose, all good.

1. He's out on the street for reasons known only to himself. Maybe it has something to do with the bank nearby or maybe that man in the expensive suit who passes Leonard and who realises about an hour later that his wallet is missing.

Maybe it's because that place on the corner, where Leonard pays with money from said wallet, has such excellent ice cream. Maybe he's waiting to meet someone, like a hot date or that police woman that'd do better not to be seen with him. Or maybe it is just for some good, old-fashioned fun, like creating a snowball in his palm and holding it as he considers where to throw it.

Feel free to interrupt him at any point.

2. Home sweet home. Only Leonard's current residence is literally inside an abandoned warehouse and as such it's not overly cosy, nor the best suited to keep any unwanted or even wanted visitors waiting.

Of course, unless somebody knows he lives here, they might not bother coming in. It certainly doesn't look very lived in, until one comes to one of the backrooms, which has the couch he's currently reclining on, reading a magazine with his feet propped up on the backrest.

The room is also cold. Not quite below zero, but if someone's breath runs hot, it would be visible. Leonard's breath can't be seen, but there are faint ice crystals forming under his fingertips.

3. [ooc: Throw up your own thing, feel free to plot with me before as mentioned up on top or let's just jump right in.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He looks up, and watches the snow. Despite the cold being practically his opposite, he still does enjoy winter. He likes the snow, the chill of it all — one would think him to find a display of it to be repulsive, but Barry always likes to be a little unpredictable.

Or predictable, as Snart should know what his answer would be.

He doesn't answer immediately, and not with a holier than thou attitude, either. Barry understands Genosha's becoming more grey than black or white, and he tries his very best to keep within those old guidelines. The ones that some people still abide by on either side.

"I try to. I can't just disregard it because I feel like it."

It keeps on snowing, even after the snowball Leonard sent up should be all snowed out. He's resourceful, especially where the cold is concerned and Barry looks so much nicer with some snow settling on his suit and getting caught in his hair. He watches him, head tilted to the side. Judging his words and reading beyond it. He does find Barry predictable, but that doesn't mean he finds him boring.

A good person. They are hard to come by and harder these days. "That must be very limiting. If I feel something isn't right, it being law doesn't make it so. Strange, isn't it? Turns out someone with fewer morals might have an easier time doing the right thing these days."

Barry shrugs his shoulders. It's the best defense he has. He agrees and disagrees, and finds there's nothing to gain if he so much as engages in trying to change Snart's definition of the word. "Are you interviewing for the position?"

He knows there's a criticism there of his own behaviour, of how he must think and feel if he thinks the law's something to abide by. Barry does believe so, given he works within the law enforcement, but he supposes even Barry Allen, CSI, has been bending the rules slightly. What the law thinks to be right isn't necessarily correct, and he's learnt that the hard way when he poses as a human.

He's a little disappointed when he lifts his hand, palm up, to catch some snow and there's nothing left for him to watch melt into his thick red glove. "I could give you a reference if you are."

"I don't think I need one. Turns out I'm in demand." He sees the disappointment and a flurry of snowflakes is sent up from his hand to the sky, only so they can slowly sail down again, for Barry to marvel at all he wants. He watches as one flake lands on Barry's eyelashes, smiling a little to himself. "There's something to be said for letting nothing but yourself dictate what to do." Certainly kept him out of any moral quandaries.

Barry wipes at his face, seeing how the snow collects on the tips of his fingers and melts into his glove. His fingers feel slightly cold from it.

For someone who can create electricity whenever he runs, he still finds it strange and fascinating how others can do the same. Snart with snow. Killer Frost with the same skill, except he doubts she'd take the time to humour him as Snart does.

After a moment of watching the snow, Barry looks to Snart. "How's that working out for you? Going as planned?" Barry's always worked within the laws of right and wrong — the kind Dad had taught him when he was younger. Do right by others, and always step in, never be an observer with regrets on not stopping someone from getting hurt or worse. Is that the same as to what Snart's talking about? Barry doesn't know.

Obviously Leonard doesn't feel cold. He never does, he can't remember ever being bothered by the cold. But he is aware others can feel cold and he isn't actually out to make Barry freeze, so other than the falling snow, the temperature remains steady, leading to the snow melting quickly. Not that he cares, there's more where that comes from.

"Things tend to go exactly as I planned and I even have time for a nice chat with the Scarlet Speedster in-between." Leonard moves his hand, watching as fog rises around them. Can't hurt to make this look a bit less out in the open. "How about you? Stopping petty crime, you must feel very meaningful."

Barry refrains from rolling his eyes, but his mouth forms a line. The Scarlet Speedster is a name he can't get Snart to stop using. He clings to it like frost on a window, and though that would thaw, this doesn't.

It's better than The Streak by far.

"I do," he says, all too seriously. He knows Snart's making fun of him, but Barry can never help but rise to the bait. He does feel meaningful, helping the police when they're stretched too thin. If stopping petty crime that isn't mutant related at all means there's one less civilian losing faith in the police department, then so be it. It's a job well done in his opinion.

"You should try it some day. You never know, you might thaw to it."

"I've bigger fish to fry." It's sort of astonishing, Barry seems to be more committed to using puns on his power than he is. Maybe he should strive to be better in that area, but on the other hand he might as well let Barry have the title of most puns. It's flattering, in a very unique and odd way.

Unique and odd, both good words to describe Barry Allen.

"How about it, Barry?" There's no one around them, just the fog he's brought up and the snow that keeps falling. Idyllic. "Want to take down the government some time soon?"

His answer should be yes.

Yes, he wants to take down the government, especially the individuals who think it's best to try and pit human against mutant. That sort of propaganda is getting too many people killed, and the Flash can only be in so many places within the same minute.

"And let the city fall to anarchy?" Despite the snow, he shakes his head in disagreement, not to dislodge any snowflakes from where they fall and rest on his head and shoulders. "I can't let that happen."

"Anarchy over tyranny, I'd say." But he shrugs in a leisurely way, neither surprised nor taken aback by the answer. A relaxed almost smile and he watches Barry. They're close to each other, but it's not as if retreat would keep Barry from reaching him at a moment's notice. Some of the flakes on Barry's face are melting, droplets against his skin. Len's body temperature is too cool for that, the flakes stay in his hair as they are, adding further white. "Then we're on opposite sides again."

He leans his head back, unable to keep from smiling now. "Cool."

He sounds unsurprised when he almost deadpans, "And here I thought you'd be disappointed."

Truthfully, Barry always is. He doesn't want Snart — Captain Cold — to be on the opposite side of him anymore. Knowing the little tidbits about Leonard Snart that humanises him to Barry, it makes it difficult to want to take him down when he knows there's good inside of him.

In a way, he understands what's made Snart who he is today, given those circumstances have shaped Barry, too, but in a different way.

Frankly, Leonard considers himself to currently be working more on the side of good then he'd like to admit out loud, but there's not really any way to deny it to himself. Risking his life to fight against suppression, using what powers and privilege the system gave him to try and protect others, standing on side of the human resistance? Sure, depending on one's point of view, he was a traitor. But he knows what he's doing and why. If good deeds happened to be against the government, all the better. Win-win, as far as he is concerned.

"I'm never disappointed when I get to face you, Barry."

He almost rolls his eyes.

"One day you will be," he says soberly. Sometimes Barry wants to paint every mutant who's against coexisting with humans with the same brush, but he knows it isn't true. He knows it because of Captain Cold, or Leonard Snart. Sometimes, they're one in the same, the two people Snart happens to juggle.

It's kind of like him, although Barry likes to think the Flash is a better version of himself.

His posture relaxes. It seems as though they're only going to fight with words, and half of that is a defeated battle in itself. "It's only a matter of time. We're on opposite sides, like you said."

Given that the closest Leonard has to a friend is a human, is Iris, and given he just doesn't like people in general, but doesn't differentiate much between mutant or not, that's not really the issue, at least not if they could and would be open about their principles. But Leonard is still a criminal, likes being a thief and doesn't really care whether Barry sees him exactly as that. In fact, it's a lot less disturbing than being looked upon as anything approaching heroic.

"At least you make for a pleasant view." With a grin he turns his hand, gathering snow in his palm. "So, up for a snowball fight or do you have to dash?"

Barry glances over his shoulder, as if expecting an explosion in the distance to beckon him away. But it's quiet, and the world, though not at peace, doesn't seem to need the Flash.

He really should dash away and make sure Genosha's safe, but Barry's one man, and the Flash is only a mutant who can do so much. Sometimes he ignores he has his own limits, and sometimes he needs to stick around instead of dart away in a gust of wind and kinetic, gold energy.

Looking back at Snart, he inhales deeply and sighs. "I'm at a disadvantage," he says, and lifts his hands then lets them drop. "I can't make snow."

"Hm." Len hums in agreement, considering whether it bothers him overly much that Barry is at a disadvantage and arriving on the conclusion that, no, it doesn't. However, he does still throw the snowball in his hand not so much at Barry as to him, as reaffirmed by his encouraging comment. "Catch."

Hey, it's still fairer than racing against the Flash would be.

It's something he should've expected.

Once Snart begins to throw that ball, his entire body tenses, gears up, gets ready to run. It's a natural reaction these days, one he doesn't think much about until he's in that position and he's wondering why he's on the verge of giving into running along the adrenaline treadmill when there's nothing to run from or to.

He tries to catch the snowball, and because his movements are too fast, half of it seems to melt from the mere heat he gives off when the swing of his hands turns gold and he moves too quick for even himself.

In his glove, it sits, almost a puddle of slush. Dodge-snow is a better game to play, given Snart can't run as fast as him and Barry has poor aim when it comes to packing snowballs and tossing them.

"Can you make a football?" he half-jokes.

Whistling under his breath, Leonard brings his hands together for a sarcastic clap, even if his expression is more fond than mocking. This is an impressive display of something, he's sure, but skill isn't it. "Look at you, Barry. You must have been a real jock in high school."

At the question he tilts his head to the side, holding out his hand. "American or soccer? Because the latter comes more naturally." However, even so he starts to form snow, ice, watching as the shape slowly grows and changes in the palm of his hand to the football Barry requested. "You any better at catching those?"

The doubt is obvious.

He's talented at outrunning them, but Snart knows that just as well as Barry does.

Barry drops the snow unceremoniously on the ground, and doesn't bother to wipe what remains off his gloves. He shouldn't challenge Snart, knowing he'll always rise to the bait, regardless of how weak or soft it may be, when it comes to snow.

He simply looks at him, appearing unimpressed, but his eyes drop from studying Snart's expression to doing so for the snow he creates. "I was more into track than football. I figure I might as well try and live my Varsity Blues life with you. You can be James, I'll be Paul."

"I draw the line at your girlfriend wearing a whip cream bikini for me, in case you're wondering. Unhygienic." Leonard throws the snow football up into the air where he allows it to spin, keeping it up there with his power before finally pushing it toward Barry, just to see if he can actually catch that one without halfway melting his way through it.

It shouldn't be surprising Snart would find that to be unhygienic, but it is, in its own way. Sometimes Barry becomes too caught up in the technicalities of what tethers them together — being mutants, having a mutant-related cause, being on opposite ends of the mutant spectrum — that he forgets Snart's not just his snow powers.

He doesn't respond right away. Instead, he reacts as Barry Allen would, and the snow football either breaks apart when he catches it or Snart's made it thick and hard enough that it only flakes at the contact. It's a catch that isn't of skill, but Barry wants to pass it off as though it is.

He looks down at the snow football, brushing his fingers over it as if to even out where he's dented it. "You won't have to worry about that, Snart," he comments. "Not even a snow bikini's coming your way."

So formal today. Maybe he should try to meet Barry sans costume again some time, at least he calls him by his first name than, generally speaking, which is cute in that weird way that made most of what Barry did or didn't do cute. He has his very own charm, at least in Leonard's eyes.

He watches his football hold sturdy, even if that still leaves at least a few imperfections for Barry to smooth out, especially after a not quite that masterful catch. "That's a relief. Not really my thing. Besides, your balls would freeze."

Barry has a theory: if he calls Snart by his name, maybe he'll turn to the good side.

It's not the best theory, and it's not really the reason Barry does it. It seems only fair if Snart calls him by his name, he returns the favour. It makes it feel more even, like one doesn't have the upperhand over the other.

And it just makes things different.

Barry rolls his eyes. "I wouldn't be wearing it," he says, and he'd slap himself with the snowball football for opening that particular door for Snart. "You have time to watch Paul Walker movies when you're out making snow angels?"

"Then I'm even less interested in the prospect of any bikinis." At least seeing Barry pull a move like that should prove to have a certain entertainment value. As most things that involved Barry in any kind of fashion. Leonard rolled his eyes, unsure what to even make of Barry's commitment to puns regarding his powers, but whatever. It had a certain charm. He had more commitment than Leonard had himself.

"See, I can make snow angels inside, so I can do that while watching as much Paul Walker as I want."

Despite being filled to the brim with frosty puns, Barry doesn't try to form one now. Snart's powers are easy to make a pun of, while his own are questionable at best. They often lead him down paths where he has to prove he's not a disappointment in a certain skill set.

But it's curious, even if Snart's simply joking with him right now, to learn about something he does outside of stirring up Genosha's mutants and police who want to tame the unsettled beast plaguing the island.

The snowball football remains in his hands, and he looks down at it. "Doesn't it wreck your place? I never had you pegged for living inside of an igloo."

Edited (I CAN SPELL.) 2016-09-03 23:51 (UTC)

[open] you're as cold as ice -- you're willing to sacrifice

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I'll have you know that I just had to read up Varsity Blues on wikipedia

and now it's time to whip out a whipped cream bikini!

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