A Conversation with Laurel

Today, Laurel wore a beige professional suit. Her long legs were highlighted by open-toe high heels. Mentioning the absent Tommy, her mood turned melancholic. She took a hefty sip of the drink the waiter handed her.

Could Tommy still be training with Malcolm? Surely he would not neglect his girlfriend. Despite the risk of prying, Thea decided to ask. "Has Tommy not been in touch lately?"

Laurel waved a hand. Just as Thea feared Tommy had vanished, Laurel said, "We've talked on the phone, but it's been ages since we met."

Thea's perception had evolved into psychic power at this point, making her more sensitive to the surrounding environment. Laurel's sudden accelerated heartbeat didn't escape her notice, but this was clearly not a sign of poisoning. It was… desire.

Alas... Thea squinted at Laurel's ample chest. It was the largest she had ever seen, conservatively estimated to be a D-cup. With such a look of unfulfilled desire, how could she comfort her? Tell her to go home and use a cucumber? That would definitely end their friendship.

Unaware of her allure, Laurel, fueled by alcohol, shared stories about Tommy. Fun moments led to intimate details, like how long he lasted or his favorite positions.

Thea stayed calm. Having accepted her mother's dating life, her brother's relationships were no issue. She just felt that Tommy seemed somewhat lacking and passive towards Laurel.

"What about Oliver?" Thea asked, eyes gleaming. "What was it like with him?"

"Oliver." Laurel clasped her hands. A soft smile formed as she reminisced. "He was gentle, strong, and always made it fun."

Thea rolled her eyes. That explained why Oliver charmed so many. His stamina was his edge. "Always fun" implied versatility. Thea glanced at Laurel, thinking they were a perfect match. No wonder Laurel wavered when Oliver returned. Tommy could not keep up.

Thea had already decided that after this stage of the election was over, her next step would be to head to the Pugatory Island. Regardless of Oliver's wishes, she would give him a chance to come home. She also wanted to save Shado, a character she admired, and change her tragic fate. Glancing at Laurel, Thea recalled that her sister Sara was likely on the island too. If all went well, she would bring them both back.

"Thea, do you have a boyfriend? Have you… tried anything?" Laurel, clearly tipsy, swayed slightly. She felt it unfair that she'd done all the talking. "If you're not experienced, I can give you some tips," she added, her tone carrying a hint of mentoring.

Thea instantly understood, stifling a laugh. If she revealed her own escapades, it'd shock them. Did they think her duplication ability was a joke? Same body, same mind, but different perspectives, doubling the sensory thrill. She'd scare herself with how wild she could get.

Initially, she'd tested her skill's limits, but things had veered into adult territory. Thea kept this secret, fearing Merlin, her ancestor, might blast her with a fireball from a higher dimension if he knew. Laurel's physical flings were tame compared to Thea's magical exploits. With mana, she could push further. Two clones, maybe three. Laurel could not imagine that level of thrill.

Realizing her thoughts were spiraling to Mars, Thea reined them in. This wasn't her—it was a side effect of her purified bloodline. Definitely.

She was about to invent a fictional boyfriend to brush Laurel off when a familiar sound interrupted.

The M1911 pistol's familiar crack rang out. Thea grabbed a fork, ready to fling it if needed.

"From today, this bar's under Bertinelli family protection!" A burly, bearded man, flanked by two rifle-toting lackeys, stormed into the bar. Seeing his intimidation working, his bell-like eyes scanned the room for someone to make an example of.

Thea sighed at the cliché. A protection racket. Wanting no part, she cast a spell, adapted from the dream-entering technique, to lower her presence. Unless someone held a deep grudge, she would be ignored.

She'd learned this spell a while ago but never had a chance to use it. Useless in the campaign's spotlight, it was perfect now.

Tracing two runes and muttering the incantation, Thea felt her magic dip slightly. The spell worked. She waited to see its effect.

"Come here!" The bearded man ignored Thea, grabbing a young waiter instead.

With a menacing grin, he demanded, "What family did I say I'm from? Repeat it."

The boy was terrified, barely able to think. Fear overwhelmed him, and he trembled, unable to recall.

His panic suited the thug's plan to kill the chicken to scare the monkeys, ensuring the bar's compliance.

Raising his gun to the waiter's head, he sneered, "Can't remember? Heh."

Thea frowned at his cruelty. Likely Bertinelli's rookie recruits, brutish and undisciplined. Her purse held a pistol. With her speed, she could drop all three easily. But with witnesses, shooting would stir trouble, maybe harming Moira's campaign. Yet, the boy was in danger. What now?

She cursed inwardly. Star City's heroes could learn from other cities' vigilantes. Where was a masked hero when you needed one?