"Jeez, do you run track or something?"

You were slippery, he’d give you that. Almost fast, even.

But of course, Wally was faster. He’s the fastest teen alive, after all. The fastest person alive, clocking in right behind his uncle Flash. There's no way you seriously thought you could outrun him.

But damn, you had tried, and the fight that you put up was actually pretty admirable.

It kinda sucked that he had to catch you. You’re actually pretty cute! But, being completely fair, you are a petty thief. He can't exactly ask you to the movies while trying to reclaim precious jewelry from you. Also, you probably hate him.

Wally doesn't actually recall what led to this. He really only remembered the chase, the adrenaline, before this very moment–you up against the alley wall, glaring daggers at him.

Not that he's complaining. It isn't a half-bad position to be in, if he says so himself.

He’s holding both your wrists with one hand, fishing for handcuffs with the other, completely unfazed by your struggles and poisonous expression. The redhead flashes you a bright grin, as if he doesn't have you in such a vulnerable position.

"If you say sorry, I’ll let you go. Maybe. But you gotta promise me you won't do it again, 'kay?"