Barry hit the ground with a crackle of lightning. His struggles to get up were cut short by a blast of ice from the cold gun. He turned over just in time to see Snart striding towards him, gun at the ready.

"Pretty fast, kid," he drawled. "But not fast enough." Barry looked up at him in fear, but instead of shooting him, Snart kept talking.

"Thank you."

"For what?" Barry asked, nonplussed. For losing? For providing target practise? Why was Snart thanking him at gunpoint?

"You forced me to up my game," he began, "not only with this gun, but with how I think about a job. It's been educational."

Barry was really confused, but before he could respond (which was good because he had no idea what he was going to say), Cisco interrupted, pointing... something at Snart.

"Drop it," he threatened, brandishing the... nozzle (?) of the thing in what Barry assumed was supposed to be a menacing manner.

"This is a prototype cold gun; four times the size, four times the power."

Barry was dubious. He had no clue what the hell Cisco was holding, but it certainly didn't resemble the gun in Snart's hands. He wasn't alone in his skepticism.

"That's a vacuum cleaner," Snart replied drily.

A look of panic overtook Cisco's face. "What? No it's not! It's a gun!" he stammered desperately.

He looked over to Barry for help. "Barry, tell him it's a gun! It looks like a gun, right?"

Barry eyed the contraption again. He looked for any sign of resemblance to a gun. He came up empty. "Sorry Cisco, but I'm gonna have to go with Snart here—that's definitely a vacuum cleaner." A look of betrayal on his face, Cisco glared at Barry.

Snart looked smug. "See? Scarlet agrees with me. Maybe next time you should cover up the brand name."

Cisco looked at the vacuum cleaner again and blushed redder than Barry's suit. "I was pressed for time," he muttered in mortification.

Snart seemingly took pity on the boy. "Well, you tried. It's okay kid; nobody's perfect. The LEDs were a nice touch," he consoled. "They really helped sell the piece."

Cisco's face brightened, making him look marginally less like a kicked puppy.

"Yeah!" Barry added his own two cents in. "I would've totally thought it was a real gun except for the fact that... you know... it was obviously a vacuum cleaner," he trailed off at the end, looking at Cisco's face and thinking that maybe next time, he should quit while he's ahead. The glare Snart sent at him said: 'See what you just did? He was getting happier and then you go and fuck it up.' Barry tried to look remorseful.

"Anyway," Snart drawled, "I gotta go. Places to see, people to rob, you know how it is." He turned and started walking away.

"Wait, what?" Barry asked, confused. "Not that I'm complaining and all, but weren't you just trying to kill me a few minutes ago?"

Snart turned around, amused. "Kid, If I wanted to kill you, your body would already be cold. You're fun, and I don't kill minors."

"I'm twenty six!" Barry cried, exasperated. "Why does no one ever believe me?"

"Because that's even less believable than that vacuum cleaner being a gun," he snorted. " See ya 'round, kid."

They watched Snart leave, Barry irritated, and Cisco bitter.

"That's ridiculous—c'mon Cisco, don't I look twenty six?" Barry asked, looking to his friend for validation.

"You said my vacuum cleaner didn't look like a gun," Cisco pouted, petulant.

"Oh, come on Cisco, really?" Barry replied in consternation. "I'm sorry for what I said about your vacuum cleaner, but—I mean—you really can't blame me, can you? If you asked me the top fifty things I thought that vacuum cleaner looked like, a gun wouldn't even make the cut. A glorified window washer, sure. But a gun? Not remotely."

Cisco did not look pacified. Barry thought he might have made things worse again. Cisco's glower agreed.

Barry sighed. "I'm really not gonna live this down, am I?"

"Nope."

"I'm sorry I said your vacuum cleaner looked like a vacuum cleaner," Barry tried.

"Barry?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

"...Okay."

"And for the record, you look twelve."

"Hey!"