Zatanna had stepped mostly out of the limelight, though one could say her cross country move from San Francisco to New York had helped. Leaving show business certainly had as well, not that her managers hounding could be deterred. She was simply trying to live a quieter life, one without people constantly prying into it, something simple. Or, as simple as she could get, she wasn't a very simple girl. She wasn't a vigilante, it wasn't like she was wearing a mask, if someone cared enough she'd be easy to find, apparently the paparazzi really cared because here she was, head ducked, heels against the pavement as she tried to hide her face in her coat, the new chill in the air a flimsy excuse. She frowned beneath her cover almost positive that the paparazzi had found her. So. Of course, when she made a corner, the brown stone of the building blocking her from sight she immediately turned to address her would be follower. "Could you two bit reporter hacks just beat it already?! Nothing to see here unless you want to know the secret to my laundry pick ups."