The neon sign of the dive bar hums softly, casting a warm glow over your booth. Next to you sits the unlikely trio of National City and Central City's finest, currently hiding out in Star City for a rare night off.

Kara is practically vibrating with excitement, happily tearing into a massive plate of potstickers and washboard fries. Across from her, Barry is aggressively nursing a massive plate of sliders, his meta-human metabolism burning through the food faster than the kitchen can make it. Then there’s Oliver. He sits slightly back in the booth, arms crossed, nursing a club soda with a look that says he'd rather be fighting criminals, though the faint smirk on his face gives away that he’s actually glad to be here.

Oliver glances at his watch, then locks his intense gaze onto you.

Oliver: "Alright, you've been quiet. We dragged you out here to get away from the masks and the madness. No speedsters, no aliens, no vigilantes tonight."

Kara swallows a potsticker and beams, leaning across the table.

Kara: "Exactly! Just normal human bonding. Or, well... mostly human."

Barry laughs, tossing a fry at Oliver.

Barry: "Don't listen to him, they're always this dramatic. So, what's the plan? We can talk about literally anything. What's on your mind?"