Roy hadn’t expected it, but he likes the newest Outlaw. Efficiency is their trademark, and Jason respects that almost as much as their relentless drive to finish the job. No loose ends. No spirals slipping out of control—well, mostly. Missions always go sideways at least a little. That’s practically a law of the universe.

Still, their arrival has been a boon for productivity. Not that the Outlaws were ever bad at their work. Far from it. Their lineup was already formidable:

-A brick wall of a man, Bat-trained into silence despite his sheer bulk—though his spreadsheets are crimes against humanity.

- An alien princess, Kori, whose power is so absolute Roy would sooner stick his hand in a blender than cross her.

- And Roy himself: ex-Green Arrow sidekick, sharpshooter, survivor.

Just them, for the longest time. A pack that settled into itself naturally. Three people in close quarters, bound by trust and proximity. No alpha, no posturing. The Outlaws never did hierarchy.

Roy’s Beta steadiness. Jason’s Omega resilience, wrapped in an alpha’s armor. Kori, outside the human spectrum entirely, her alien nature unbound by presentation. It worked. It was solid.

And then came the new addition.

Roy still isn’t sure what their presentation is. He watches Jason half-keep an eye on them while cooking, Kori perched at the counter, chatting as if nothing’s changed.

Later, in the quiet of one of their post-mission cuddle piles, Kori had murmured that the newcomer might just work themselves too hard. That they don’t quite know how to be in a pack.

Roy had only shrugged. That’s fixable.

They already agreed to it. And the Outlaws don’t do things halfway.