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Despite her loud and aggravated protests to Dinah and Zinda about 'wasting her time', with the exception of the first ten minutes in the club to get oriented, Babs has spent the entire time out on the dance floor. She's currently working on her fourth dance partner, the previous three all having ~~been wimps~~ taken a breather.

There are few things Barbara Gordon likes more than dancing, and even fewer things that she can still do in the chair. And her enjoyment is evident in the absurdly large grin on her face.

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"I can believe anything," Goldy assures her.

She swills back the last of her brew and slides the bottle over to the barman once he's delivered Grace's. He's afforded a nice view of her cleavage during the process, so he can't be blamed for taking his eyes off Grace and promptly attending to the other blonde. Or maybe he's just a good bartender who doesn't like to leave a customer waiting.

"I was just... displaced," the Fable tries to explain. "One moment I was walking through the farm yard, and the next I was on the shoulder of I-80 in Eastern Iowa. Flash, bang, thank you mam."

It's impressive cleavage. Grace smirks and attempts to make more of her own by pushing her elbows in toward her chest. Well, a girl can try. She winks at the bartender when he looks her way again, then lights another cigarette.

"I was in some creepy Stepford Mayberry kind of town in Missouri. Not real big on welcoming committees. Cute deputy, though. He was shit scared about somethin'. Might head back that way soon," she decides.

"That sounds like fun." More fun than the farm at any rate. "If you could use some back up, I wouldn't mind tagging along," Goldy offers as the bartender provides her with a new beer.

Satisfied with his attention and speedy service, the Fable beckons the guy closer. She then leans across the bar, meeting him halfway, and whispers something into his ear. His eyes widen even as she's still delivering the message, and when she's done he pulls back with a boyish grin plastered across his face.

"Okay. Deal," he says, nodding, and still grinning. "You're both comp'd for the rest of the night."

Goldy's dirty smirk quickly morphs into a smile of gratitude.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Looking pleased with herself, she turns back to Grace and waggles her eyebrows.

Grace snorts.

"So, what time's the threesome?"

The lack of protest is probably a good sign she wouldn't mind having Goldy along on the road trip.

Goldy snickers. She likes the way Grace thinks.

"Actually, I told him that we'd make out with each other first, as a gesture of good faith on our part. Then, if he proves himself worthy as the night progresses, the threesome could become a possibility. Provided we don't find anyone else in the meantime."

As confirmation of her story, the bartender is still hanging around, and he's looking mighty expectant.

A shrug, then Grace wraps her arm around Goldy's neck, careful not to burn her with the cigarette, and kisses her like it's something she does every day. She's grinning as she pulls back.

"I know we just met, but free booze is free booze."

Goldy plays her part in the kiss, with similar nonchalance. And there's an amused grin to match the other woman's when it's over, as well as an appreciative lick of her lips.

"I couldn't agree more," she replies, and checks on their spectator.

"Are we good?"

The bartender's eyes are suitably goggly and he doesn't seem to be in any hurry to stop gawking at them. To his credit, he does manage to offer an emphatic thumbs up. Goldy chuckles at his response.

Grace gives him a sidelong look, smiling knowingly. It's almost too easy.

"Tell me about Metropolis," she says. A waggle of her eyebrows keeps it from sounding like a demand.

"It's my first time here too. I don't have any great local knowledge," Goldy concedes. "You want Dinah or Zinda for that."

She takes a sip from her new beer.

"More generally, from what I can tell, it's the last city with any semblance of order left in this world. It's protected from monsters by the magical Kansas safezone bubble, and, as such, it's still functioning more or less normally."

"Of course, that makes it a prime spot for refugees. Overcrowding is going to be a problem before too long, I suspect."

"Huh."

Grace is really quite good at smoke rings.

"Shit, man. It's like we're stuck in a Costner movie."

Never having seen the movie in question, Goldy looks a bit blank.

"Build it and they will come?" she asks.

"Nah," Grace says. "He abandoned baseball and found the Book of Revelations, or some shit like that. Man has a thing for the apocalypse. He should've stuck with baseball and long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days."

She smirks.

"Heh. I can't say I'm a big fan," Goldy replies. "Of Costner's. Or foreplay that takes that long."

"Personally, I'm just waiting for Mad Max to show up."

"I could use a little Thunderdome. Two men enter, one man leaves."

Head tilted, she narrows her eyes and thinks about that for a moment.

"Sounds almost pornographic."

Goldy muses over it too.

Her eventual conclusion is preceded by another lewd chuckle.

"Not quite. But I'm sure there's a skin flick remake out there somewhere. Hopefully with less terrifying hair on the Tina Turner character."

She shudders and takes a mind cleansing gulp of beer.

Grace laughs and twines one of her randomly placed braids around her finger.

"I'm beginning to think you have a hair fetish," she jokes, studying Goldy with more attention than she'd shown otherwise. When she focuses on someone, that person knows it.

Goldy knew it was only a matter of time before she got some undivided attention from Grace. She basks in it now.

"It's more of a healthy interest," she confesses.

"You'd have one too if you'd spent over a thousand years trying to keep yours up to fairy tale standards."

Maybe this is some of that method acting Aunt Cathy told her about once. But why? What's the purpose?

Grace pulls on her cigarette, eyes narrowing.

"Standards, huh? Is there some sort of rulebook? Army style regulations?" She snorts. "The boys are lucky if I bother to comb mine. I think I owned a hair brush once, but gave it to Gus Gus to chew."

"Really?"

Goldy sighs, a little disappointed. She thought Grace might have just been letting things lapse because of the whole apocalypse thing.

"Oh well."

"As for the standards, they are just personal preference really. I was blessed with a fantastic and quite unique head of hair as a child, as noted in my story, so it's only natural that I would try and keep it that way." She shrugs. "I think it's still pretty true to the tale to this day."

Grace stares at Goldy, smirking a bit, absently wondering if she should be offended or not. Ultimately, she decides to be amused; the ever uptight Paige regards Grace's personal appearance in a similar fashion.

"How come you grew up," Grace asks. "If you're immortal because of your fairy tale, how come you grew up? Goldilocks is always a kid."

Good question. But Goldy doesn't falter in her answer.

"The immortality phenomenon didn't kick in until we Fables took refuge on Earth back in the fourteen hundreds, supposedly because this is the place where our stories are popular. In our Homelands, we all aged, albeit much more slowly, and we could be killed there. Hence why we fled from the Adversary's more powerful invading forces and eventually exiled ourselves. Wherever we were at age-wise when we came to Earth, was where we ended up sticking."

Huh.

That's almost too weird to make up.

"Political refugee," Grace mumbles into her drink. "That's heavy shit."

"Yep," Goldy affirms.

"Add in the fact that we had to live in fucking secret because of our special talents and longevity, and because the animal Fables can talk, of course. Then you're somewhere close to the full crappiness of the situation."

Grace wonders if proper hair maintenance can be considered a special talent. Raising her eyebrows, she taps her beer against Goldy's.

"And I thought having a brother who's a priest was bad."

Goldy makes a face.

"Ugh. That does bite."

"Let me guess, he's drove you to atheism before you got out of your teens."