Technical Assistance

Side Story #8: Listening Device Engineering

Note:  Takes place in the section break of Chapter 27.

He’s waiting on her Sunday night when she brings in her shopping bags, causing her to jump and nearly spill her groceries all over the place. It’s the damnedest thing she’s ever seen; she flips the light switch and he’s sitting on her couch as though he belongs there, Saphira curled up next to him, asleep. It takes all she has not to yell a very violent curse in surprise, and a hand flies to her heart.

“Do you just enjoy scaring me?” she demands to know. “I mean, can’t you just call me to let me know you’re headed to my apartment? I’d really like to walk in here just once and not be scared out of my wits.” She sits her bags on the counter, putting away some of the cold items that won’t wait for her to spend all night at the lair.

He’s unapologetic as he rises to his feet to follow her. “I haven’t replaced my phone," he answers. “The screen was shattered by the bullet.” The reminder of all-too-recent events is unnecessary because she can’t exactly forget. He sighs. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She takes the almost-apology because she knows it's all she's going to get. "I know," she assures him. "I get that I have a police tail and you'll have to pick me up, but get your phone fixed and call me—if only so I don't scream when I turn on the light to see you there."

She frowns, stopping for a moment as she remembers the spare burner she bought and activated. "Wait," she says, then goes into her bedroom, returning with the spare smartphone. He's situated at the bar when she returns, and she walks back to her purse, pulling out her own phone. She replaces her previous number for him with the new one on the burner before holding it out to him. "Here, take this one." He hesitates, clearly not wanting to take charity, so she applies to his logical side—if he has a logical side. "You need a phone if you're going to be running around this city at night fighting dangerous criminals." He's still frowning, so she decides to land a low blow. "I'd feel better if you took it."

As expected, he takes the phone from her hand immediately. "I'll buy you a headset for your phone," he answers, and she rolls her eyes before turning back to her groceries. He hesitates, like he's going to put a hand on her shoulder, but he doesn't. After yesterday's gaffe in the lair when he almost kissed her (again), he's been careful to maintain more distance, as if he doesn't trust himself alone with her.

It's a surprisingly flattering thought.

Still, she doesn't like that he's backed off, so she thinks it's time to test him a little. "Hey," she says gently, placing her hand over both of his, clasped in front of him, "I’ll put up the perishables, and then I’ll be ready to go.” She frowns, looking down at her attire as she remembers she wore a skirt. “Well, I’ll have to change, obviously—since, you know, skirts and bikes don’t mix—but then I’ll be ready.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, but then she realizes what she was implying, and her face heats. Only then does he save her from her discomfort, taking her hand in one of his. “That’s fine,” he assures her. Hesitantly, he adds, “I’ll wait here.” It’s phrased almost like a question, but the Arrow doesn’t exactly ask for permission, so she knows it’s just an open question.

“So,” she starts casually as she pulls away, putting up the perishable groceries, “I think I’ve found a target for us—I’ve been doing some research since last night.” She bites her lip, uncertain if the offer still stands, but she decides to go through with it. “I found one that seemed interesting—the Dodger.” She waves a hand, her head in the refrigerator. “Apparently, he’s a jewel thief who’s decided to work Starling for a while—he was all over the news last night for stealing a piece from the Ominous Decade.” She shivers and this time it has nothing to do with the cold fridge. “They call him the Dodger because he makes innocent people do the work for him by placing bomb collars on their necks—very Gleeman Vox, if you ask me. Well, if you ignore the lack of deadly game shows and superheroes.” He looks at her for a long moment, and her face heats as she looks away. “And I’m glad you didn’t understand that reference. Anyway, he took a guy’s head off in Paris when he wouldn’t steal what the Dodger wanted.” She crosses her arms, shutting her fridge as she finishes with her groceries. “The point is, I think he’s the kind of guy you like to take down.”