Zatanna laughed, nose scrunched and teeth dug into her bottom lip as she smiled, “please, please, please tell me you had S.S. Boaty McBoatface on the side and everything, and that plans were made to put a Thomas the Tank Engine face on it. If there weren’t lie to me. I’m desperate for it.” And she was because the image was hard to pass up, besides, who would fault a magician their whims. Especially ones that caused no harm, a surprisingly frequent caveat to most magicians whims. Or, not. She thought of the paparazzi she kneed.
“No, please, steal away, you can have all the paparazzi and invasive questions on Twitter. And, as a bonus, out of the kindness of my heart. You can even have the unsolicited twitpics of dicks.” She grinned, eyebrows raised, “no returning gifts, it’s rude. Yeah, I imagine there are a few tricks of the trade that you might be able to use nothing says Gotham’s Finest like the ability to get out of chains while submerged under water.”
“If it’s not Boaty McBoatface I hope it sinks.” She considers that, “Okay, no that’s really drastic, I uh. Hope he gets a splinter and all the ice boxes break and he’s stuck with iceless mojitos.” Zatanna almost pointed that as a bartender does she know how much an iceless mojito sucks or what, before she shrugged. Answered his question with a grin, one that seemed to be an almost permanent fixture by now,.”Who says they’ve got to be mutually exclusive? I can do both. Not that I do anymore, I retired from the Magician life. Mostly.”
“Now that I think about it, it might have been a submarine. It was all over the news for a while?” He supplies, trying to clarify that he hadn’t named his own boat something so ridiculous. Then again, he called his boat Nightskipper so maybe he didn’t have very much room to talk. At least there was more creativity than Batman. Batmobile. Batcopter. Batboat. “Submarine McSubface doesn’t have the same ring to it. But the internet won’t disappoint on the face. Some people’s skills with photoshop are downright criminal.”
Speaking of criminal, what Zatanna was describing definitely qualified as sexual harassment. Dick understood the… phenomenon, though- he’d been too young when he had his own claim to fame with the Flying Graysons, but he’d been the media-titled Crown Prince of Gotham for years. Social media had been an interesting place before he’d gone and stopped updating the accounts when he’d moved out of Gotham. “With all of the recognition software out there, you’d think they’d be able to put a stop to that.” Dick shakes his head. His first thought is to pitch the idea to Bruce- it wouldn’t be horrible to have a conversation with his mentor that wasn’t awkward and stilted as they had been for a while. He thinks Babs would approve, too. As long as he neglected to mention how his police work had factored in to the equation. “Never know what’ll give you the leg up to make detective.” No need to mention he’d done that before, and very early in his move to New York, even if his memory recalled how his lungs had burned.
Zatanna’s wish for the boat to sink is so unexpectedly drastic that Dick laughs before he can stop himself. But they say that the second thought spoke to who you were as a person so he’s not too worried about having misjudged her character. “He’d hate that. I personally hope he runs out of the little drink umbrellas.” He shrugs, adjusting his equipment belt. The belt is both more and less than he’s used to, heavy with the equipment on it and full of nothing he can actually say he needs. He’d like to retire the belt like Zatanna had apparently retired her career as a magician. “A recent retirement, or a ‘retirement’?” The air quotes are heavy as Dick tries to suss out why she still has paparazzi following her. Maybe her name really is just that big- he honestly couldn’t say he knew much about the magician scene… if there was such a thing (it seemed like there must be).
