[Felicity's Apartment, Starling City — Night]
Language is an art. The same words can produce entirely different effects depending on tone and timing. From "don't... stop" to "don't stop" to "don't... stop"—those three phrases alone told the complete story of Felicity's psychological and physical state.
In the aftermath, Felicity lay still, catching her breath like a sailor washed ashore after her first voyage through a storm. She stared blankly at Jack Kadere, unable to shake the feeling that her entire life had spiraled out of control the moment she met him.
"What... are we now?" she asked.
Jack chuckled softly. "We can be friends. Or we can be lovers."
"Are there friends like that?"
"The friendship bed. You just climb in."
Felicity's eyes narrowed. "Were you being so attentive earlier just for this? Or was it because of last night—you thought I was easy?"
Jack shook his head, one hand rising to stroke her cheek. His eyes were tender, his voice serious. "Not last night. Just now."
"So you really do think that." She rolled over, glaring at him.
"Don't be angry. You're my first girlfriend since I came to this world." He pulled her close and kissed her, his tone soft, coaxing. "If your reaction hadn't been so interesting, you wouldn't have had this opportunity."
"Really?" Suspicion lingered in her gaze, but her anger faded. Slowly, she settled against his chest. "Tell me about yourself. I don't know anything about you. I mean—were you actually planning to kidnap me at first?"
She wasn't sure how else to describe that initial encounter.
"Yes." Jack smiled brilliantly. "That's how I handled things in Gotham. Simple, fast, convenient. Speaking of kidnapping—I kidnapped a woman today. A police officer's daughter."
Felicity laughed. "That's not a funny joke."
"I'm not joking."
"...What?"
She froze, then rolled off him entirely. "You're serious? You actually kidnapped a cop's daughter today?"
"At least she thinks so. Doesn't seem like she's reported it yet." Jack considered this for a moment, almost amused.
"Are you insane?"
Felicity scrambled out of bed, rushed to the living room, and returned with her laptop bag. She threw on her glasses, opened her computer, and her fingers blurred across the keyboard. Within seconds, she had breached the Starling City Police Department's internal system. No mention of Jack Kadere. She exhaled, then turned to face him. "You're really not joking?"
"Laurel Lance. Her father is Quentin Lance. Look them up."
She pulled both files. Her frown deepened as she stared silently at him.
"Why did you kidnap her?"
"I'm a little interested in her."
"You're interested in her, so you kidnap her?"
"Yes." Jack rose from the bed and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Your boyfriend is just that willful."
This is insane. This is actually insane.
Felicity's fingers resumed their work. No kidnapping reports tied to him. No records at all in the Starling City system. She remembered he was from Gotham, so she pivoted, breaching the GCPD database—only to find his file classified at a level so high even the commissioner couldn't access it. She could crack it, but not with this laptop.
"Who exactly are you?" She turned to look at him.
Jack noticed the classification. He didn't seem to care. "Your man. Did you forget already? Or do you move on even faster than I do?"
"Move on?"
Before she could ask what he meant, he continued. "Check Queen Industries. The steel plant."
She hacked into the nearest surveillance feeds. Footage loaded within seconds.
"What are you doing?" she asked—then realized.
"I kidnapped her there," Jack said. "Told her if she wanted to see me again, she should come find me."
"You want to see her again? You said you're interested in her—do you like her?" The discomfort in her voice was obvious.
"If I liked her, I would have forced myself on her. Why would I wait for her to come to me?"
"Force—force yourself? That's how you express feelings?"
"What's the use of confessing? You'll just get rejected." Jack's tone was utterly matter-of-fact. "If you can't get them, take them. If you can't take them, use drugs. If they turn on you, release their photos. Worst case, you go to jail and continue when you get out. If you don't even have the courage to go to jail, what's the point of saying you like someone?"
Felicity stared at him, mouth slightly open.
What kind of antisocial logic is this?
She turned back to her screen, fingers hovering motionless above the keyboard, the surveillance footage of the steel plant glowing in the dark.