Lisa’s eyes search the warehouse for the familiar figure; it’s getting easier to find Rosa anywhere, and it scares Lisa a little how her eyes seem to be drawn to the woman like a magnet. Rosa has lost her heist gear already; the yellow jacket fits her like second skin and Lisa’s mouth goes dry at the sight. With Rosa, it always feels like she’s on a slippery slope, the ground uneven and frightening beneath her feet - because Lisa’s used to controlling people with a flick of her hair, a glance or a smile. She’s done it to get her way ever since her boobs went from zero to hero in tenth grade… but with Rosa, it’s different. 

How do you control someone who knows your methods so intimately? Who’s used the same for as long as you have, who sees right through your bullshit, right through you, and leaves you with nothing but a raw, scraped-up core of questionable value?

Lisa’s never felt less glamorous than when Rosa Dillon stares right at her, and yet there’s an earthquake in her stomach, in her chest, every time the other woman gets too close. Lisa feels transparent and vulnerable near Rosa and she hates it… and yet, she can’t seem to keep enough distance.

She watches Rosa push away from the wall, her eyes all huge and innocent, in the same act that Lisa’s put on for years. She knows how that act feels on her face, in her posture, and yet it’s fascinating to watch it unfold in third person.

“Let’s just bury the hatchet, hmm?” Rosa drawls and… yes, she’s batting her eyelashes, just a pretty little thing, you wouldn’t want to hurt her, right?

To Rosa’s misfortune, Len’s lived with Lisa long enough that he sees through the bullshit, too.

“Fuck your hatchet,” he sneers, vicious and unwavering in his anger, as always when it comes to Lisa. Usually, it makes her feel proud and protected… but today, she just feels weary. “One more strike and you’re both out, Dillon, do you understand?!”

Rosa’s eyes flash green, for a split second, but she’s smarter than to really try that crap on Len. They might win, once, but there’s no doubt in any Rogue’s mind that Leonard Snart is a dangerous bear to poke. They won’t dare kill him, not when they don’t know which hole Mick might come crawling out of, roaring and ready to roast someone… and if they just trap him, the Flash might be a lot less inclined to let them go, without the one Rogue who actually has some leverage with him. Len’s got his ass covered, as usual… Lisa just wishes she could do the same.She doesn’t hear what Rosa says, but Len stalks off to his secluded corner of the warehouse, so he must be marginally satisfied. Scudder ends up stomping to the opposite end, very obviously trying to be as far away as possible from their leader so that it doesn’t look like he’s crawling off with his tail between his legs. And Rosa… 

Lisa just can’t watch anymore. She doesn’t want to see Rosa trail after Scudder again - the man’s a self-important jerk, for all his skill with the mirrors. Suddenly, Lisa feels almost naked in her prison uniform. Orange’s never been quite her color, and her brother’s leather jacket doesn’t do much to keep the chill out; she turns to go get changed, but a warm hand on her forearm stops her.

“Hey,” Rosa says, so quietly it would be easy to ignore… if Lisa were someone else. Her insides turn to liquid again and she hates it, hates being so easily swayed by... god knows what, by Rosa. She takes a second to steel herself and then smirks, in Rosa’s general direction because she can’t stand to look, not now. Not when it still smarts that Rosa left her there to rot, trapped and unarmed, the sounds of cops’ shouting getting closer by the second.

“Hey,” she echoes back, smirking like her stomach’s not in knots. Rosa might see through her bullshit, but Lisa will be damned if she lets go of her act, the only thing still keeping her together. “I really didn’t want to leave you,” Rosa speaks again, almost sincerely, almost like Lisa could believe it.But you did, she wants to scream, but she still stinks of prison and her hair’s all limp and tousled, and she can almost feel the cracks in her usually well-maintained facade. “Don’t mention it,” she says instead, but Rosa’s hand tightens on her forearm and the warmth seeps almost down to Lisa’s skin. “I mean it,” Rosa insists. Her voice’s lost that honeyed lilt and she sounds almost rough, almost honest. Lisa longs to turn to her and just take her word for it, but the thing is, she’s heard far too many worthless apologies in her life to trust an unspoken ‘sorry’ when it hangs in the air. She tries to pull her arm away, with a casual “Whatever” - but Rosa’s surprisingly strong for her size. Lisa remembers her in that black gear, tight pants and a long-sleeved shirt showing off surprisingly defined arms, and a goddamn thigh holster. Lisa teased her about that, but she had a hard time focusing on the heist instead of Rosa, cool and competent and oh so agile. 

“Let me go,” Lisa snaps, and she makes the mistake of looking at the other woman. Rosa’s pouting, but it’s not the flirty pout with a purpose: she looks genuinely upset that Lisa doesn’t trust her (anymore, maybe). And Lisa really, really wants not to cave, but it’s harder by the second. 

“I wouldn’t have left you there, Lisa.”

“Then why did you?”

The words are out before she can stop them, cutting through the narrow space between them. Rosa looks like she’s been slapped, and Lisa feels malicious satisfaction at the sight. She’s stewed in her own rage and helplessness for long enough that she wants to push the misery onto someone else. The anger and the frustration of the past weeks boils over, and Lisa yanks her arm out of Rosa’s slackened grip, turning to the other woman with a sneer: “Why did you leave me there, Rosalind? You and your precious boyfriend, huh? If you care so much, why didn’t you use your swirly mojo and get me out? Why did it have to be my brother, my ordinary human brother, who broke me out tonight? I’ll tell you why-”

She doesn’t get any further before Rosa lunges and for a second, Lisa thinks she’s gonna get punched. But then Rosa’s mouth is on her own and Rosa’s hands are tangled in Lisa’s messy, unwashed hair and she has about half a second to wonder how gross she is right now before her brain short-circuits and her eyes fall closed as she wraps her arm around Rosa’s back and pulls her in. She’s not sure what she’s doing here, but she’s kissed enough people that her body remembers for her. She even manages not to sound too needy when Rosa licks into her mouth and curves one hand around the back of Lisa’s neck; but when they part, both breathless and flushed, she becomes aware of the knots in her stomach again.

“What was that?” Lisa whispers, suddenly worried that someone saw - she doesn’t even know whether she’d be more mortified if it were Len or Scudder. Or maybe Hartley: he’d be unable to keep his mouth shut, and there’s this intense urge to keep this... thing private, whatever it is. It’s a foreign feeling, because usually, PDA’s not a problem for her. But this, no, this is just for the two of them, and if Rosa’s bright eyes are anything to go by, she could be persuaded to make it a habit.