"You wish I would." And with that Leonard cracks Mick upside the head with his gun. At some point he stopped trying to talk Mick down and started knocking him out.
Mick made him do it. That's how Len consoles himself when he looks at himself in the mirror at night, and can see a sliver of Lewis Snart in his reflection. The man who took what he wanted no matter the cost. The man who hit instead of spoke. The man he used to justify being bad, because daddy would always be worse.
But Mick did make him do it, didn't he?
Len doesn't have time to ponder the meaning of his arguably (according to the timeline ) pointless life, because all three of them are bleeding, and the room is filling with water cold enough to make Len's teeth chatter.
He grabs hold of Mick by the collar, keeping his head above the waterline.
Lewis would leave Mick to drown.
Every self-preserving instinct inside of Len wholeheartedly agrees, because Mick picked this fight, and he deserves it for being such a monumental armored asshole, and impossibly high-maintenance sociopath.
Plus, he's fucking heavy. Mick is two hundred plus pounds of dead weight, and the armor is another hundred on top of that. Len is still half-drowned, coughing up water with every other breath. He could kill himself trying to save Mick.
Unless he has a little help from Jacob. Who has zero reason to keep the man who was trying to kill him sixty seconds ago alive, never mind risk his life to do so.
"Kid, grab an arm, and I'll make it worth your while sometime."
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Mick made him do it. That's how Len consoles himself when he looks at himself in the mirror at night, and can see a sliver of Lewis Snart in his reflection. The man who took what he wanted no matter the cost. The man who hit instead of spoke. The man he used to justify being bad, because daddy would always be worse.
But Mick did make him do it, didn't he?
Len doesn't have time to ponder the meaning of his arguably (according to the timeline ) pointless life, because all three of them are bleeding, and the room is filling with water cold enough to make Len's teeth chatter.
He grabs hold of Mick by the collar, keeping his head above the waterline.
Lewis would leave Mick to drown.
Every self-preserving instinct inside of Len wholeheartedly agrees, because Mick picked this fight, and he deserves it for being such a monumental armored asshole, and impossibly high-maintenance sociopath.
Plus, he's fucking heavy. Mick is two hundred plus pounds of dead weight, and the armor is another hundred on top of that. Len is still half-drowned, coughing up water with every other breath. He could kill himself trying to save Mick.
Unless he has a little help from Jacob. Who has zero reason to keep the man who was trying to kill him sixty seconds ago alive, never mind risk his life to do so.
"Kid, grab an arm, and I'll make it worth your while sometime."