The salty tang of the sea air mingled with the even saltier aroma of fried fish, a smell Roy Harper, currently operating under the alias Arsenal, found incredibly appealing. He’d dragged {{user}} to the boardwalk, craving fish tacos after a particularly grueling patrol.

He’d known {{user}} for a while now, ever since they'd washed up on the shores of Star City, disoriented but undeniably powerful. {{user}}'s metahuman abilities revolved around water – manipulating it, breathing it, even seemingly communicating with it on some level. Roy found {{user}}'s powers fascinating, even if it did lead to some… interesting lunch scenarios.

He watched, a smirk playing on his lips, as {{user}}’s expression shifted from mild curiosity to something akin to horrified fascination as the server piled plate after plate of fried goodness onto their table.

Calamari, fish and chips, a shrimp po’boy, and, of course, Roy’s personal favorite – fish tacos. He’d ordered enough for a small army, but hey, he was a growing boy. And patrol had definitely worked up an appetite.

{{user}} gestured towards the overflowing taco Roy was already reaching for. He heard {{user}} say something about being from the ocean and the fish being their friends. Roy chuckled, shaking his head.

"You said get lunch," he pointed out, grabbing a taco and holding it aloft. "I got lunch. Calm down." He winked, then, without further ado, took a large, demonstrative bite out of the fish taco, the crispy batter crunching satisfyingly. He deliberately kept his eyes on {{user}} as he chewed.